THE  CALL  OF  THE  SEA 
A  yiiOSE  ANTHOLOGY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


^   ■■^. 


r 
1 


%, 


THE   CALL  OF  THE   SEA 


UNIFORM  WITH  THIS  VOLUME 

TRAVELLER'S  JOY 
Compiled  bv  W.  G.  Watkrs 
Second  Edition 


THE  POCKET  BOOK  OF  POEMS  AND 
SONGS  FOR  THE  OPEN  AIR 
Compiled  bv  Edward  Thomas 


E,    GRANT    RICHARDS 


THE    CALL 
OF   THE    SEA 

A   PROSE   ANTHOLOGY 


COMPILKD    BY 

F.  G.  AFLALO 


And  the  gathering  together  of  the  waters  called  he  seas. 

CnNKilS   I.  10 

And  there  was  no  more  sea. 

RKV.  XXI.    I 


LONDON 

E.   GRANT   kICHARhS 

1907 


GC 

2  1 


DEDICATED    IN    AFFECTIONATE    ADMIRATION 
TO 

WILLIAM   CLARK   RUSSELL 

DOYEN     OF     LIVING     WRITERS     ON     THE     SEA 
BY 

THE   AUTHOR 


88101^: 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2008  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/callofseaproseanOOafla 


PREFACE 

C  INS  of  omission  and  commission  are  the  way 
of  every  compiler  of  anthologies,  and  without 
doubt  this  little  collection  has  its  share.  I  can  only 
plead  that  these  are  no  result  of  carelessness,  but 
purely  of  faulty  taste,  for  the  passages  herein 
gathered  are  the  result  of  much  weighing,  the 
residue  after  much  sifting,  and  at  any  rate  I  hope 
that,  even  though  the  reader  is  certain  to  object  to 
some  of  my  choice,  and  to  regret  the  absence  of 
favourites  of  his  own,  he  will  bear  in  mind  the 
difficulties  of  selection,  having  in  view  a  moderate 
compass  for  the  whole. 

A  word  is  needed  with  reference  to  the  transla- 
tions from  the  classics.  To  the  classical  scholar, 
translation  of  Homer  is  heresy.  The  "  modern 
side"  would  be  equally  affronted  with  the  original 
only.  There  was  no  room  for  both.  The  choice 
had  to  be  made,  and  perhaps  my  choice  has  been 
the  wrong  one. 

It  may  be  complained  that  writers  like  Mr.  Clark 
Russell  and  Captain  Marryat  are  very  poorly 
represented,  but  one  aim  of  this  anthology  has 
been  to  offer  as  mucli    variety  of  authorship  as 


Vlll  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

was  found  compatible  with  other  considerations. 
Otherwise,  a  volume  of  the  same  bulk,  and 
approximately  of  the  same  range,  might  without 
great  difficulty  have  been  compiled  from  the 
voluminous  writings  of  either  writer. 

The  Call  of  the  Sea  has  a  more  than  abstract 
meaning  for  one  in  whose  ears  it  sings  all  through 
the  year,  and  the  garnering  of  these  extracts 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  its  surf  has  lent  enjoy- 
ment to  the  task,  which  has  been  indeed  no  task, 
but  a  recreation.  In  its  original  form,  the  collection 
was  to  have  included  poetry,  but  this  was  antici- 
pated by  the  admirable  "  Sailor's  Garland "  of 
Mr.  Masefield,  who  has  for  the  time  being  most 
generously  dropped  anchor  in  a  large  prose  sister 
ship  that  my  little  craft  may  have  the  fair-way  to 
herself. 

To  the  publishers,  and  in  many  cases  also  to 
the  authors,  named  in  the  following  list,  I  owe  my 
thanks  for  permission  to  make  use  of  the  material 
included  in  the  book,  and  my  gratitude  must  take 
a  more  personal  turn  when  I  recall  the  kind 
assistance  and  encouragement  given  to  me  by  Mr. 
Hilaire  Belloc,  M.P.,  Mr.  Frank  Bullen,  Mr.  Robert 
Hichens,  Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling,  Mr.  Eden  Phill- 
potts,  Mr.  Morley  Roberts,  Mr.  Clark  Russell,  Mr. 
Basil  Soulsby  (Hon.  Sec.  to  the  Hakluyt  Society, 
with  permission  to  use  many  extracts  from  its 
valuable  reprints),  and  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells. 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 


THE   ANCIENTS   AND   THE   SEA 

Seafarers       .         .         .   The  Bible    . 

The  Egyptians  in  the 

Red  Sea       .         .         .    The  Bible    . 

Shipwreck      .        .        .   The  Bible    . 

The  Voyage  of  Ulysses  Homer 

Counsel  for  Mariners  Hesiod 

The  Dawn  ok  Naviga- 
tion     ....   Lucretius 

Shipwreck      .        .        .    Virgil 

A  Stormy  Voyage        .  Ovid   . 

For  the  Fisherman     .  Ovid    . 


U 


THE   CHA 
The  Im.mense 
The  Disturber 
The  Unsymi'ATIie 
The  Terrible 
The  Inert 
The  Boundless 
The  ExcrrABLE 
The  Image  of  It 
How  to  Paint  li 
The  Cunning 
The  Malicious 
The  Opaque  . 

a  2 


SEA 


kactkr  of  the 

.  Joseph  Addison     . 

.  Fihon  You'll; 

.   Fihon  Young 

.   Edrisi 

.   P..  de  Amicis 

.    Von  Humboldt 

.   /'.  F.  X.  de  Charlevoix 

.  John  A'usiin 

.    L.  da  Vinci 

.    Victor  Hugo 

.  Joseph  Conrad 

.    Charles  Kini^sley . 


PAGE 
2 

3 
4 

lO 

14 

15 
i6 

20 
23 


26 
27 
28 

31 
31 

33 
33 
34 
35 
36 
36 
37 


X  THE    CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

III 

SCENERY  PAGE 

The  Coast -line      .         .  H.  D.  Thon-au    .  .  40 
Perspective  of   the 

Cliffs.         .         .         .  Alice  Aleynell       .  .  41 

The  Cliffs  of  Devon  .  Eden  Phillpotts    .  .  43 

ThkClivfsov  ScoTLfiLtiD  Sir  JVaZ/er  ScoU  .  .  45 

An  Essex  Sea-Marsh    .  Hev.  S.  Baring-Could .  46 

A  Sea  CA^'ERN        .         .    George  Macdonald  .  48 

IV 
NIGHT   AND   DAY 

Night  in  a  Harbour    .   Charles  Kingsley .        .     50 

Night  on  a  Steamer    .  A'.  L.  Stevenson  .         .     51 

Night  in  A  Cornish  Port  £(/^« /"//iV/^o/Zi^    .        .     52 

Night  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean        .         .         .A.M.  L.  Laviartine    .     53 

Dawn  on  the  Iceland 
Banks  ....  Pierre  Loli  .         .         -54 

Dawn    in    the    Light- 
house .         .         .         .   Rudyard  Kipling  .     56 

Dawn    in    the    Light- 
house ....  Filson  Young       .         .     58 

Dawn  on  a  Cargo  uoat  Morley  Roberts    .        .     59 

V 
WEATHER 

I.    CALM 

A  Rough  Crossing      '  .   Colonel  Haivker  .  .  62 
Calm  on  the  Meuiter- 

rankan         .         .         .A.  M.  L.  Lamartine  .  63 

The  Mystery  of  a  Calm  /-".  7'.  Bullen.       .  .  64 

Calm  off  the  Horn     .  John  Masefield     .  .  66 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS  XI 

II.    CHANGE   OF    WKATHER 

PAGE 

In  the  South  Seas       .  Pierre  Loti .  .    68 

III.    FOG 

The  Walls  of  Grey     .  /aek  Loudon         .  .     7° 

IV.    STORM 

The  Sorrowful  Maister's 

Predicament      .        .    M'^ilUam  Lithgoxv  71 

The  Fires  of  St.  Elmo  P.  F.  de  Quiros  .  .     72 
The  P'ury  of  It    .          .   Christopher  Columbus  .     74 

SCYLLA  AND    Charybdis  Francois  Rabelais  .      75 
Collision     between 

THE    "Erebus"    and 

"Terror"  .         .         .  Sir  James  Ross     .  .     76 

A  Landsman  in  a  Storm  /.  Arago      .        .  78 
Helplessness     of     the 

Ship     .         .         .         •   Pierre  Loti  .         .  .80 
An   Emigrant   Ship    in 

Bad  Weather     .        .  Friedrich  Gerstaecker  .     82 

The  Breaking  Wave    .  Michael  Seat t       .  .    85 
Responsibility   of   the 

Helmsman  .         .         .  /•'.  T.  Pullen  .     89 

The  Fleet  in  a  S'.)UALL   Tobias  Smollett    .  .     90 

The  Slave  Ship    .        .  John  Rnskin  92 

Lightning  at  Sea         .  Captain  Marryat  94 

Lightning  at  Sea         .    \V.  Clark  Russell  95 
The     Height    of    the 

Storm  ....   f-'enimorc  Cooper  .  98 

Greeks  in  a  Storm       .  A.  IV.  Kinglake  .  98 

Off  Cape  Horn     .        .    iV.  P.  Snow  .    101 

Fin  Dim;  the  Wke<  k     .  A'.     /,.    SteTcnion  "i/l 

Lloyd  Osbourm-  .    103 

Calm  after  Storm        . /.  C.  Ian  Dyke  .  .   107 


THE   CALL    OF    THE    SEA 


VI 


SHIPS   AND   SEA   TRAVEL 


Nautical  Language     . 

Signs  of  Land 

The  Last  Voyage  of 
Christopher  Colum- 
bus      .        .         .        . 

The  Benefits  of  Navi- 
gation 

The  Benefits  of  Navi- 
gation 

The  Benefits  of  Navi- 
gation 

The  Lateen  Sail. 
The  Modern  Steamship 
The  Modern  Steamship 
The  Modern  Steamship 
The  Modern  Steamship 
Running    Before    the 

Wind  .  .  .  . 
A  Day  on  the  Ocean  . 
Pains    of     Early    Sea 

Travel 
Charm  of  a  Sea  Voyage 
Life  on  Board  Ship  . 
The  Channel  Crossing 
The  Channel  Crossing 
The  Atlantic  Passage 
Leaving  the  Thames  . 
A  Canoe  at  Sea   . 


I'AC.E 

Jcnalhan  Swift     . 

.   no 

Christopher  Columhtu 

.   Ill 

Fihon  Young 

.    112 

M.  Frobisher 

.    114 

IV.   Barents 

.    114 

John  Davis,  The  Nai 

)i- 

gator 

.    116 

Hilaire  Belloc 

•    117 

J.  C.   Van  Dyke  . 

.    122 

Joseph  Conrad 

.    124 

E.  de  Aniicis 

.    126 

H.  G.  Wells 

.    128 

John  Masejield 

.    129 

Rudyard  Kipling 

.    132 

Ferdinand  Magellan 

■    133 

Washington  Irving 

•    13s 

Charles  Darwin  . 

.    136 

Charles  Dickens    . 

•    139 

R.  S.  Stir  tecs 

•    144 

Charles  Dickens    . 

.    146 

Sir  F.  Treves 

.    148 

John  Macgregor    . 

.    149 

TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 


VII 
LIFE  IN  THE  SEA 


AND    Flying 
AND    Flying 


Variety  of  Types 
Variety  of  Types 

BONITOES     AND      FlYING 

Fish     .... 
bonitoes 

Fish 
Bonitoes 

Fish  .  .  .  . 
Mystery  of  the  Ocean 
Victory  of  the  Coral- 
Builders  . 
The  Sea-Garden  . 
The  Botto.m  of  the  Sea 
The  Bottom  of  the  Sea 
The  Bottom  of  the  Sea 
Abundance  of  Fish  in 
the  Sea 


Philip  Gosse 
Pliny  . 

J.  Hawkins . 

Francois  Pyrard 

Linschoten  . 
Sir  Waller  Scoll 

Charles  Darroin 
C.  F.  Holder 
Jules  Verne . 
Alexander  Agassiz 
F.  T.  Rullen 

Henry  Fielding 


PAGE 

158 

160 
161 
164 

1 68 
170 

171 


VIII 
SEA   FIGHTS 


Thk  Devon  Mastiffs 
Salamis  . 
Salamis  . 
Syracuse 


Charles  Kingsley 

Herodotus  . 
Aischyiu  f  . 
Thncydides  . 


Sluys        ....    Holinshed    . 
VaSCO  da  GaMA  RNf;AGES 

THE  Calicut  Fi.kkt    .    I'asco  da  Gama 


174 
175 
180 
184 
188 

191 


xiv  THE   CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

PACK 

Lepanto  ....  John  Lothrop  Motley     .    195 

The  Spanish  Armada  .  Jntnes  Anthony  Fiouile    198 

Death  of  Sir  Richard 

G RENVILLE  .         .         .  Linschoten    .         .         ■  206 

La  Hogue        .  .         .    Thomas  Babington  Ma- 

cau I  ay       .  .  .   208 

Trafalgar      .         .         .   Robert  Southey     .         .  213 

Affair  of  the  "Che- 
sapeake" AND  "Shan- 
non"   .... 


/.  A.  Manson       .         .  228 


ENVOI 
TheSailor's Graveyard  Robert  Hiche in    .        .  235 


AUTHORS   QUOTED 


AUTHORS  WORKS   QUOTED  PUBLISHERS 

Addison,  Joseph  Spectator 

(1672-1719) 

^SCHYLL'S  (n.C.  The    Persians  Bell 

525-45'5)  (trans.) 

Agassiz,  a.  (1835-  Three  Cruises  of       Sampson  Low 
)  tlie  ^' Blake" 

Akago,  J.  Voyage  Round  tlie 

World  (tT-jitis.) 

Barents,  W.  (       -     Three    Voyages  to       Hakluyt 
i^g-j)  the  Arctic  Regions        Society 

(trans.) 
Baring-Gould,         Mehalah  Smith  Elder 

Rev.  S.  (1834-     ) 
Bblloc,    Hilaire      Esto  Perpetua  Duckworth 

(1870-        ) 
BULLEN,  F.  T.  (1857     The  Cniise  of  the       Smith  EUler 
)  '^Cachalot" 

A  Sack  of  Shakings     C.  A.  Pearson 

Charlevoix,  P.  K.  History    of    Sunto 

Xavier  UK  (ifirti  Domingo  (trans.) 

-1761) 

Columbus,  Chris-  Journal  (tr^n^.) 

TOPHER     (?   1446- 
1506) 
CONRAU,  JosH'H         The  Mirror  of  the       Metliiion 
Sea 


XVI 


THK   CALL    OF   THE   SEA 


AUTHORS 

Cooper,    James 
Fenimore  (17S9- 
185O 

Da  Gama,   Vasco 

(?  1 469- 1 524) 

Darwin,  Charles 

(1809- 1 882) 

Da   Vinci,    Leon- 
ardo (1452-1519) 

Davis,    J.    ("  The 
Navigator") 
(?  1 550- 1 605) 

De  Amicis,  E.  (1846 

-  ) 
De  Quiros,  Pedro 

Feknandes 
(?  I560-I6I4) 

Dickens,  Charles 

(1812-1870) 

Edrisi 

Fielding,  Henrv 

('707-I754) 
Frobisher,    Sir 
Martin    ( 

1594) 
P'roude,    James 

Anthony  (i8i8~ 

1894) 
Gersiaecker, 

Friedrich(i8i6- 

1872) 

Gosse,   Philip   H. 

(1810- 1888) 


WORKS   QUOTED  PUBLISHERS 

Miles  Wallinff/ord 


Three    Voyages 
(trans.) 


Hakhiyt 
Society 


The   Voyage  of  John  Murray 

H.M.S'.  ''Beagle" 

MS,    (trans.     E.  Duckworth 

McCurdy) 

The    Seavians 
Secrets 


Still'  Oceano 


Voyages  (trans.) 


Hakluyt 
Society 

Fratelli  Neves 

Hakluyt 
Society 


Hall 


The  U7icotnmerciar\  /-..  . 

^.        ,,  I  Chapruan  and 

Iraveller  \     u^;,, 

American  Notes        > 

A    Description  of 

Spain  (trans.) 

Jouryial  of  a  Voyage 
to  Lisbon 


Three  Voyages 


Hakluyt 
Society 


History  of  England     Longman 


Bla^i  Wasser 


Naturalist  of  the        Heiiiemann 
Sea  Shore 


AUTHORS    QUOTED 


AUTHORS 

Hawker,  Coi,oxf.l 
Peter  (1786-1853) 

Hawkins,    Sir    J. 

(1532-' 595) 
Herodotus 

(?ab.  484-424  B.C.) 

Hesiod    (?  ab.    735 

B.C.) 
HiCHENS,    Robert 

(1864-        ) 
Holder,  C.  F. 

Hounshed   ( 
1580) 

Homer  (?) 

Hugo,  Victor 
(1802-1885) 

Humboldt,  Baron 
Von  (1769-1859) 

Irving,  Washing- 
ton (1783- 1859) 

KiNGLAKE,     A.     W. 
(1809-1891) 

Ki.vGSLEY,  Charles 
(1819  187s) 

Kipling,  RuDYARD 
(■865-        ) 

I.AMARTINE,      Al- 
PHONSE        MARIF 

Louis  (1790- 1 869) 

LiNSCHOTEN 
LITHCOW.WII  I.IAM 

(I5K2-I645?) 


WORKS   QUOTED  PUBLISHERS 

Diaries  Longmans 

Voyages  Hakluyt 

Society 
History  (trans.)  Bell 

The    Works  a?id  Bull 

Days  (trans.) 
Tongues  of  Con-         Methiien 

science 
The  Log  of  a  Sea-         Constable 

Angler 
Chronicles 

T/ie  Odyssey  (U  ana. )     Bell 

Les  Travaitleurs  dc     Hetzel 
la  Me.r 

Cosmos  (trans.) 

The  Sketch  Book 

Eothcn 

At  Last  Macmillan 

West'uiard  Ho  ! 

Many   Inventiotis  '\ 
Captains    Courage-  \  Macmillan 
ous  J 

Voyage  en  Orient 


Voyage  to  the  F.ast     Hakluyt 

Indies  (iranfi.)  Society 

Rare  Adventures 


XVIU 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 


AUTHORS 

London,  Jack  (1876 

-  ) 

LoTi,  Pierre  (1850 

-  ) 
Lucretius,  (?  96-55 

B.C.) 

Macaulay, 
Thomas    Bab- 

INGTON  (1800- 

1859) 

Macdonald, 

George      (1824- 

1905) 
Macgregor,  John 

(1825-1892) 

Magellan,  Fer- 
dinand (1480- 
1521) 

Manson,  J.  A. 

Marryat,  Capt.  F. 
(1792- I 848) 

Masefield,  John 

Meynell,  Alice 
Motley,    John 

LOTHROP     (1814- 

1877) 
Osbourne    (see 

Stevenson) 

Ovid  (43  b.c.-?  17 
a.d.) 

Phillpotts,  Eden 

(1862-       ) 
Pliny  (23-79) 


VOKKS   QUOTED 

The  Sea  Wolf 


publisher:^ 
Heinemann 


Matelot  ^     C  \  I  ' 

Pecheur  d' Islande.  j  "  '     7 

The    Nature   of  Bell 

Things  (trans.) 

History  of  England 


Malcolm 


The  ' '  Roh  Roy  "  07t      M  urray 
tlie  Jordan 

First  Voyage  Rotaid     Haki uyt 
the  World  {trans.)        Society 

Britain's  Sea-Kings     Casselt 
and  Sea-Fights. 

Mr.      Midshipman 
Easy 

A  Tarpaidin  Muster 


The  Spirit  of  Place 
The   Rise  of  the 
Dutch  Republic 


Tristia  (trans.) 
Ilaliciiticon 

Lying  Prophets     ) 
My    Devon    Year] 
Natural   History         I>-11 
(trans.) 


E.     Gr;int 
Richards 
Lane 
Murray 


Bell 


Mpthurn 


AUTHORS   QUOTED 


AUTHORS 

Pyrard,  F. 

Rabelais,     Fran- 
cois (?  1 495- '553) 

Roberts,  Morley 

('857-       ) 
Ross,    Sir    James 

(1800-1862) 

RusKiN,  John  (1819 
-1900) 

Russell,  William 
Clark  (1844-      ) 

Scott,    Michael 
(1 789-1835) 

Scott.SirWalter 

(I77I-I832) 

Smollet,     Tobias 
(1721-1771; 

Snow,  W.  P. 


Socthey,  Robert 
(1774- I 843) 

Stevenson,  R.  L. 
(1850-1894) 

Stevknson,  K.  I.. 
and  Lloyi>  Os- 
bourne    (1868- 

Surtees,  Robert 
Smith  (        -1863) 

Swift,  Jonathan 
(1667-1745) 


WORKS  QUOTED 

Vo}'aj^e  (trans.) 

The  Fifth  Book  of 
the  Good  Pan- 
tagruel  (trans.) 

A    Tramp's   Note- 
book 

A    Voyage  of  Dis- 
covery 

Modern   Painters 
The    Harbours    of 
England 

The   Wreck  of  the 
^^Grosvenor" 

The  Crtiise  of  the 
"  Midge" 

TJie  Pirate 

Roderick  Random 

A  Tivo  Years'  Crnise 
off  Tierra  del 
Fuego 

Life  of  Nelson 
Essays  of  Travel 
The  Wrecker 

) 
Jorroiks's       Jaunts 
and  JuUUies 

Gulliver's  Travels 


PUBI.ISHEKS 

Hakluyt 
Society 


F.  K.  White 

Hakluyt 
Society 

Allen 

Sampson  Low 


Chatto    and 
Windus 

Cassrll 


XX 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 


AUTHORS 

Thoreau,  H.  D, 
(1817-1862) 

Thucydides  (?  471 

-?40I  B.C.) 

Treves,    Sir    F. 

('853-        ) 
Van  Dyke,  J.  C. 


WORKS   QUOTED 


History  of  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  War 
(trans.) 

The  Other  Side  of 
the  lM,nteni 

The  Opal  Sea 


I'UHLISHERS 


Bell 


Cassell 


T.    Werner 
Laurie 


Verne,  Jules  (1828     Vingt  Mille  Lieues     Hetzel 
-1906)  sous  les  Mers* 

Virgil  (70-19  b.c.)     The  ^neid  (tranfi.) 


T.    Werner 
Laurie 

Chapman  and 
Hall 

E.      Grant 
Richards 

ditto 


Wells,  H.  G.  (1866     The      Future      iti 

-        )  America 

Young,  Filson  Christopher  Colum- 

ims 

The  Sands  of  Plea- 
sure 

Ireland    at     the 
Cross  Roads 

*  One  of  the  Series  of  the  "Voyages  Extraordinaires  "  of  Jules 
Verne,  published  by  Messrs.  Hetzel. 


I 

THE    ANCIENTS    AND    THE    SEA 


I 


'I'liey  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and  occupy  their 

business  in  great  waters ; 
These  men  see  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  Ilis  wonders 

in  the  deep. 
For  at  His  word  the  stormy  wind  ariseth,   whicli  lifteth 

up  the  waves  thereot. 
They  are  carried  up  to  the  heaven,  and  down  again  to 

the  deep  :    their  soul  meiteth  away  because  of  the 

trouble. 
They  reel  to  and  fro,  and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man, 

and  are  at  their  wits'  end. 
So  when   they  cry  unto  the   Lord  in   their  trouble    He 

delivereth  them  out  of  their  distress. 
For  He  maketh   the  storm   to  cease,   so  that  the  waves 

thereof  are  still. 
Then  are  they  glad  because  they  are  at  rest  ;  and  so  He 

bringeth  them  unto  the  haven  where  they  would  be. 

Psalm  cvn. 


The  Egyptians  in  the  Red  Sea        -o 
(From  Exodus  xiv.  21-22,  26-29) 

A  ND  Moses  stretched  out  his  hand  over  the 
sea ;  and  the  Lord  caused  the  sea  to  go  back 
by  a  strong  east  wind  all  that  night,  and  made  the 
sea  dry  land,  and  the  waters  were  divided. 

And  the  children  of  Israel  went  into  the  midst 
of  the  sea  upon  the  dry  ground  :  and  the  waters 
were  a  wall  unto  them  on  their  right  hand,  and  on 
their  left.  .  .  . 

And  the  Lord  said  unto  Moses,  Stretch  out 
thine  hand  over  the  sea,  that  the  waters  may  come 
again  upon  the  Egyptians,  upon  their  chariots,  and 
upon  their  horsemen. 

And  Moses  stretched  forth  his  hand  over  the 
sea,  and  the  sea  returned  to  his  strength  when  the 
morning  appeared ;  and  the  Egyptians  fled  against 
it;  and  the  Lord  overthrew  the  Egyptians  in  the 
midst  of  the  sea. 

And  the  waters  returned,  and  covered  the 
chariots,  and  the  horsemen,  and  all  the  host  of 
Pharaoh  that  came  into  the  sea  after  them  ;  there 
remained  not  so  much  as  one  of  them. 

But  the  children  of  Israel  walked  upon  dry  land 
in  the  midst  of  the  sea  ;  and  the  waters  were  a  wall 
unto  them  on  their  right  hand,  and  on  their  left. 

3 


4  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

Shipwreck         'Qy        -^o        "O        -'v:> 

(From  Jonah  I.  4-5,  12-13) 

"DUT  the  Lord  sent  out  a  great  wind  into  the 
sea,  and  there  was  a  mighty  tempest  in  the 
sea,  so  that  the  ship  was  hke  to  be  broken. 

Then  the  mariners  were  afraid,  and  cried  every 
man  unto  his  god,  and  cast  forth  the  wares  that 
were  in  the  ship  into  the  sea,  to  Hghten  it  of  them. 
But  Jonah  was  gone  down  into  the  sides  of  the 
ship  ;  and  he  lay,  and  was  fast  asleep.  .  .  . 

And  he  said  unto  them.  Take  me  up  and  cast 
me  forth  into  the  sea ;  so  shall  the  sea  be  calm 
unto  you  :  for  I  know  that  for  my  sake  this  great 
tempest  is  upon  you. 

Nevertheless  the  men  rowed  hard  to  bring  it  to 
the  land  ;  but  they  could  not  :  for  the  sea  wrought, 
and  was  tempestuous  against  them. 

(From  Matthew  viii.  23-27) 

And  when  he  was  entered  into  a  ship,  his  dis- 
ciples followed  him. 

And,  behold,  there  arose  a  great  tempest  in  the 
sea,  insomuch  that  the  ship  was  covered  with  the 
waves  :  but  he  was  asleep. 

And  his  disciples  came  to  him  and  awoke  him, 
saying.  Lord,  save  us  :  we  perish. 

And  he  saith  unto  them,  Why  are  ye  fearful,  O 
ye  of  little   faith  ?    Then  he  arose  and  rebuked 


ACTS    XXVII.  5 

the  winds  and  the  sea  ;   and  there  was  a  great 
calm. 

But  the  men  marvelled,  saying,  What  manner  of 
man  is  this,  that  even  the  winds  and  the  sea  obey 
him  ! 

(From  Acts  xxvii.) 

And  when  it  was  determined  that  we  should  sail 
into  Italy,  they  delivered  Paul  and  certain  other 
prisoners  unto  one  named  Julius,  a  centurion  of 
Augustus'  band. 

And  entering  into  a  ship  of  Adramyttium,  we 
launched,  meaning  to  sail  by  the  coasts  of  Asia  ; 
one  Aristarchus,  a  Macedonian  of  Thessalonica, 
being  with  us. 

And  the  next  day  we  touch  at  Sidon.  And 
Julius  courteously  entreated  Paul,  and  gave  him 
liberty  to  go  unto  his  friends  to  refresh  himself. 

And  when  we  had  launched  from  thence,  we 
sailed  under  Cyprus,  because  the  winds  were  con- 
trary. 

And  when  we  had  sailed  over  the  sea  of  Cilicia 
and  Pamphylia,  we  came  to  Myra,  a  city  of  Lycia. 

And  there  the  centurion  found  a  ship  of  Alex- 
andria sailing  into  Italy  ;  and  he  put  us  therein. 

And  when  wc  had  sailed  slowly  many  days,  and 
scarce  wore  come  over  against  Cnidus,  the  wind 
not  suffering  us,  we  sailed  under  Crete,  over 
against  Salmonc  ; 


6  THE    CALL   OF   THE    SEA 

And,  hardly  passing  it,  came  unto  a  place  which 
is  called  The  fair  havens  ;  nigh  whereunto  was  the 
city  of  Lasea. 

Now  when  much  time  was  spent,  and  when  sail- 
ing was  now  dangerous,  because  the  fast  was  now 
already  past,  Paul  admonished  them,  And  said 
unto  them.  Sirs,  I  perceive  that  this  voyage  will  be 
with  hurt  and  much  damage,  not  only  of  the  lading 
and  ship,  but  also  of  our  lives. 

Nevertheless  the  centurion  believed  the  master 
and  the  owner  of  the  ship,  more  than  those  things 
which  were  spoken  by  Paul. 

And  because  the  haven  was  not  commodious  to 
winter  in,  the  more  part  advised  to  depart  thence 
also,  if  by  any  means  they  might  attain  to  Phenice, 
and  there  to  winter  ;  which  is  an  haven  of  Crete, 
and  lieth  toward  the  south  west  and  north  west. 

And  when  the  south  wind  blew  softly,  supposing 
that  they  had  obtained  their  purpose,  loosing 
thence,  they  sailed  close  by  Crete. 

But  not  long  after  there  arose  against  it  a  tem- 
pestuous wind,  called  Euroclydon. 

And  when  the  ship  was  caught,  and  could  not 
bear  up  into  the  wind,  we  let  her  drive. 

And  running  under  a  certain  island  which  is 
called  Clauda,  we  had  much  work  to  come  by  the 
boat : 

Which  when  they  had  taken  up,  they  used  helps, 
undergirding    the   ship  ;     and,    fearing    lest    they 


ACTS   XXVII.  7 

should  fall  into  the  quicksands,  strake  sail,  and  so 
were  driven. 

And  we  being  exceedingly  tossed  with  a  tem- 
pest, the  next  day  they  lightened  the  ship  ; 

And  the  third  day  we  cast  out  with  our  own 
hands  the  tackling  of  the  ship. 

And  when  neither  sun  nor  stars  in  many  days 
appeared,  and  no  small  tempest  lay  on  us,  all  hope 
that  we  should  be  saved  was  then  taken  away. 

But  after  long  abstinence  Paul  stood  forth  in 
the  midst  of  them,  and  said,  Sirs,  ye  should  have 
hearkened  unto  me,  and  not  have  loosed  from 
Crete,  and  to  have  gained  this  harm  and  loss. 

And  now  I  exhort  you  to  be  of  good  cheer  :  for 
there  shall  be  no  loss  of  any  man's  life  among  you, 
but  of  the  ship. 

For  there  stood  by  me  this  night  the  angel  of 
God,  whose  I  am,  and  whom  I  serve, 

Saying,  Fear  not,  Paul  ;  thou  must  be  brought 
before  C;esar  ;  and,  lo,  (iod  hath  given  thee  all 
them  that  sail  with  thee. 

Wherefore,  sirs,  be  of  good  cheer  :  for  1  believe 
God,  that  it  shall  be  even  as  it  was  told  me. 

Howbeit  we  must  be  cast  upon  a  certain  island. 

But  when  the  fourteenth  nij^ht  was  come,  as  we 
were  driven  up  and  down  in  Adria,  about  mid- 
night the  shipmen  deemed  tiiat  they  drew  near 
to  some  country  ; 

And  sounded,  and  found  it  twenty  f.itlioins:  and 


8  The  call  of  the  sea 

when  they  had  gone  a  little  further,  they  sounded 
again,  and  found  it  fifteen  fathoms. 

Then  fearing  lest  we  should  have  fallen  upon 
rocks,  they  cast  four  anchors  out  of  the  stern,  and 
wished  for  the  day. 

And  as  the  shipmen  were  about  to  flee  out  of 
the  ship,  when  they  had  let  down  the  boat  into  the 
sea,  under  colour  as  though  they  would  have  cast 
anchors  out  of  the  foreship, 

Paul  said  to  the  centurion  and  the  soldiers,  Ex- 
cept these  abide  in  the  ship,  ye  cannot  be  saved. 

Then  the  soldiers  cut  oft"  the  ropes  of  the  boat, 
and  let  her  fall  off. 

And  while  the  day  was  coming  on,  Paul  be- 
sought them  all  to  take  meat,  saying,  This  day  is 
the  fourteenth  day  that  ye  have  tarried  and  con- 
tinued fasting,  having  taken  nothing. 

Wherefore  I  pray  you  to  take  some  meat :  for 
this  is  for  your  health  :  for  there  shall  not  an  hair 
fall  from  the  head  of  any  of  you. 

And  when  he  had  thus  spoken,  he  took  bread, 
and  gave  thanks  to  God  in  presence  of  them  all : 
and  when  he  had  broken  it,  he  began  to  eat. 

Then  were  they  all  of  good  cheer,  and  they  also 
took  some  meat. 

And  we  were  in  all  in  the  ship  two  hundred 
threescore  and  sixteen  souls. 

And  when  they  had  eaten  enough,  they  lightened 
the  ship,  and  cast  out  the  wheat  into  the  sea. 


ACTS   XXVII.  9 

And  when  it  was  day,  they  knew  not  the  land  : 
but  they  discovered  a  certain  creek  with  a  shore, 
into  the  which  they  were  minded,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, to  thrust  in  the  ship. 

And  when  they  had  taken  up  the  anchors,  they 
committed  themselves  unto  the  sea,  and  loosed 
the  rudder  bands,  and  hoisted  up  the  mainsail  to 
the  wind,  and  made  toward  shore. 

And  falling  into  a  place  where  two  seas  met, 
they  ran  the  ship  aground  ;  and  the  forepart  stuck 
fast,  and  remained  unmoveable,  but  the  hinder 
part  was  broken  with  the  violence  of  the  waves. 

And  the  soldiers'  counsel  was  to  kill  the  pri- 
soners, lest  any  of  them  should  swim  out,  and 
escape. 

But  the  centurion,  willing  to  save  Paul,  kept 
them  from  their  purpose  ;  and  commanded  that 
they  which  could  swim  should  cast  themselves 
first  into  the  sea  and  get  to  land  : 

And  the  rest,  some  on  boards,  and  some  on 
broken  jiicces  of  the  ship.  And  so  it  came  to 
pass,  that  they  escaped  all  safe  to  land. 


lO  THE   CALL   OF    THE   SEA 

The  Voyage  of  Ulysses        ^;:>        ^:> 

(From  the  Odyssey  ;  trans.) 

"DUT  when  we  had  now  left  the  island,  nor  did 
any  other  land  appear,  but  the  heaven  and  the 
sea,  then  the  son  of  Saturn  reared  an  azure  cloud 
above  the  hollow  ship  ;  and  the  sea  became  dark 
beneath  it.  But  it  ran  for  no  very  long  time  ;  for 
immediately  came  the  clamouring  West  wind, 
rushing  with  a  mighty  tempest :  and  the  storm  of 
the  wind  broke  both  the  cables  of  the  mast ;  and 
the  mast  fell  backwards,  and  all  the  tackle  was 
thrown  in  confusion  into  the  hold  ;  and  he  struck 
the  head  of  the  helmsman  backward  in  the  ship, 
and  broke  all  the  bones  of  his  head  together  ;  and 
he  fell  like  unto  a  diver  from  the  deck,  and  his 
noble  mind  left  his  bones  ;  and  Jove  thundered 
together,  and  hurled  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  ship  : 
and  it  was  entirely  whirled  round,  stricken  with  the 
thunderbolt  of  Jove,  and  it  was  filled  with  sulphur ; 
and  my  companions  fell  from  the  ship.  And  they, 
like  unto  gulls,  were  borne  on  the  waves  around 
the  black  ship  ;  for  the  deity  took  away  their 
return.  But  I  kept  going  about  through  the  ship, 
until  the  storm  loosed  the  sides  from  the  keel ;  and 
the  wave  bore  it  along  naked.  And  it  broke  out 
the  mast  at  the  keel:  but  a  thong  was  thrown  upon 
it,  made  from  the  skin  of  an  ox.  With  this  I 
bound  both  together,  the  keel  and  the  mast :  and, 


HOMER  I I 

sitting  upon  them,  I  was  borne  by  the  destructive 
winds. 

Then  indeed  the  West  wind  ceased  raging  with 
a  storm,  and  ciuickly  the  South  wind  came  on, 
bringing  grief  to  my  mind,  that  I  should  again 
measure  my  way  to  destructive  Charybdis.  I  was 
borne  along  during  the  whole  night ;  and  together 
with  the  rising  sun  I  came  to  the  rock  of  Scylla 
and  terrible  Charybdis.  She  gulped  up  the  briny 
water  of  the  sea  ;  but  I,  raised  on  high  to  the  lofty 
fig-tree,  held  clinging  to  it,  as  a  bat,  nor  could  I 
anywhere  either  fix  myself  firmly  with  my  feet,  or 
ascend :  for  the  roots  were  far  oif,  and  the 
branches  were  wide  apart,  and  both  long  and  vast, 
and  they  overshadowed  Charybdis.  But  I  held 
without  ceasing,  until  she  vomited  out  again  the 
mast  and  keel  ;  and  it  came  late  to  me  wishing  for 
it :  as  late  as  a  man  has  risen  from  the  forum  to 
go  to  supper,  adjudging  many  contests  of  disput- 
ing youths,  so  late  these  planks  appeared  from 
Charybdis.  And  I  put  down  my  feel,  and  my 
hands  over  them,  to  be  carried  along,  and  I  fell 
with  a  noise  in  the  middle  on  the  long  planks,  and 
sitting  upon  them,  I  rowed  with  my  hands.  .  .  . 

Thus  speaking,  divine  Ulysses  went  over  the 
threshold  ;  but  with  him  the  strength  of  Alcinous 
sent  forward  a  herald,  to  conduct  him  to  the  swift 
ship  and  the  shore  of  the  sea.  And  Arete  sent 
women  servants   with    him  ;   one   having   a   well- 


12  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

washed  robe,  and  garment,  and  another  she  sent 
with  him  to  carry  a  heavy  coffer  :  and  another 
carried  both  bread  and  red  wine.  But  when  they 
came  to  the  ship  and  the  sea,  his  illustrious  con- 
ductors immediately  receiving  the  things,  placed 
them  in  the  hollow  ship,  all  the  drink  and  meat : 
and  then  they  strewed  a  rug  and  linen  for  Ulysses, 
on  the  deck  of  the  hollow  ship,  that  he  might  sleep 
without  waking,  at  the  stern  ;  but  he  himself  em- 
barked and  laid  down  in  silence  ;  and  each  of 
them  sat  on  the  benches  in  order ;  and  they  loosed 
the  cable  from  the  perforated  stone  ;  there  they, 
reclining,  threw  up  the  sea  with  the  oar,  and  sweet 
sleep  fell  upon  his  eyelids,  unwakeful,  most  plea- 
sant, the  nearest  like  death.  But  it,  like  as  four- 
yoked  male  horses  in  the  plain,  all  incited  together 
by  the  blows  of  the  scourge,  lifting  themselves 
on  high,  swiftly  pass  over  the  way  ;  so  its  prow 
indeed  lifted  itself  up,  and  the  mighty  purple 
billow  of  the  much-rolling  sea  rushed  behind. 
And  very  safely  it  ran,  steadily ;  nor  could  a 
falcon-hawk,  swiftest  of  birds,  have  followed  it 
close.  So  it,  running  swiftly,  cut  the  waves  of 
the  sea,  bearing  a  man  who  possessed  counsels 
equal  to  the  gods  :  who  before  had  suffered  very 
many  griefs  in  his  mind,  both  wars  of  men,  and 
passing  the  terrible  waves  :  then  indeed  he  slept 
fearlessly,  forgetting  whatever  things  he  had 
suffered. 


HOMKR  13 

When  a  very  shining  star  arose,  which  especi- 
ally comes  announcing  the  light  of  the  morning, 
the  mother  of  day  ;  at  that  time  then  the  ship 
that  passes  over  the  sea  neared  the  island. 

Now  there  is  a  certain  haven  of  Phorcys,  the 
old  man  of  the  sea,  amongst  the  people  of  Ithaca  ; 
and  there  are  two  abrupt  projecting  shores  in  it, 
inclining  towards  the  port,  which  swell  from  the 
great  wave  of  hard  blowing  winds  from  without ; 
but  within  well-benched  ships  remain  without  a 
chain,  when  they  reach  the  goal  of  the  mooring- 
station.   .    .   . 

There  they  drove  in,  being  before  acquainted 
with  it ;  it  indeed  ran  ashore  more  than  half  its 
length,  hastening;  for  by  the  hands  of  such  rowers 
was  it  urged  on.  And  they,  disembarking  from 
the  well-yoked  ship  to  the  shore,  first  lifted  Ulysses 
out  of  the  hollow  ship,  with  his  very  linen  and 
beautiful  rug,  and  placed  him,  overcome  with 
sleep,  on  the  sand.   .   .   . 

Thus  having  spoken,  he  received  from  him  his 
brazen  spear,  and  extended  it  on  the  deck  of  the 
ship  rowed  on  both  sides  ;  and  he  himself  em- 
barked in  the  sea-traversing  ship.  And  then  he 
sat  down  in  the  stern  ;  and  he  seated  Theocly- 
menus  near  himself:  and  they  (the  sailors)  loosed 
the  halsers.  And  Telemachus,  exhorting  his  com- 
panions, bade  them  make  ready  the  tackle  ;  and 
they  eagerly  obeyed.     And,  raising  the  pine  mast, 


14  THE   CALL    OF    THE   SEA 

they  placed  it  within  the  hollow  mast  hole,  and 
bound  it  down  with  cables  ;  and  they  hoisted  the 
white  sails  with  well-twisted  bull-hides.  And  to 
them  blue-eyed  Minerva  sent  a  favourable  gale, 
blowing  sharply  upon  them  through  the  air,  that 
the  ship,  running  along,  might  very  quickly  make 
its  way  over  the  briny  water  of  the  sea.  And  they 
came  to  Crouni  and  to  fair-streamed  Chalcis.  But 
the  sun  set,  and  all  the  ways  were  overshadowed. 
And  it  reached  Pherc-e,  driven  on  by  a  favourable 
gale  from  Jove  ;  and  to  divine  Elis,  where  the 
Epeans  rule.  From  thence  he  sent  it  on  to  the 
swift  islands,  meditating  whether  he  should  escape 
death  or  be  taken. 

Homer. 


Counsel  for  Mariners        •<:::>        ^Ci^        .<o 

(From  The  Works  and  Days ;  trans.) 

TDRAISE  a  small  vessel,  but  put  your  cargo  in  a 
large  one.  .  .  .  For  fifty  days  after  the  summer 
solstice,  when  the  summer  season  of  labour  is  past, 
sailing  is  seasonable  for  men  :  neither  would  you 
wreck  your  ship,  nor  would  the  sea  drown  the 
crew,  unless  of  design  Neptune,  who  shakes  the 
earth,  or  Jupiter,  king  of  the  Gods,  should  choose 
to  destroy  them  ;  for  these  decide  the  end  of  good 
folk  and  of  bad.    But  at  that  season  the  winds 


LUCRETIUS  1 5 

blow  Steady,  the  sea  is  safe  ;  then  you  are  safe  to 
trust  the  winds  and  drag  down  your  swift  ship  to 
the  water's  edge  and  put  the  cargo  on  board.  .  .  . 
Another  good  time  for  sailing  is  in  the  spring.  .  .  . 
I  praise  not  the  spring  voyage,  for  it  must  be  per- 
formed in  haste.  .  .  .  But  death  in  the  waves  is 
fearful.  ...  Do  not  put  all  your  belongings  in 
hollow  ships,  but  leave  the  bulk  behind  and  take 

the  smaller  portion  as  cargo. 

Hesiod. 


N' 


The  Dawn  of  Navigation        -<:>        <:i^ 

(From  The  Nature  of  'rhiii;:^ ;  trans.) 

OR  did  the  boisterous  floods  of  the  sea  in 
those  times  dash  ships  and  men  on  the  rocks. 
The  ocean,  often  rising  and  swelling,  as  it  does  to- 
day, stormed  in  vain  and  to  no  purpose,  and  laid 
aside  its  empty  threats  without  effect  ;  nor  could 
the  deceitful  allurement  of  its  calm  water  entice 
with  its  smiling  waves  anyone  into  danger  ;  for 
the  daring  art  of  navigation  was  then  unknown. 
.  .  The  sea  was  next  covered  with  ships  for  the 

sake  of  perfumes. 

Lucretius. 


l6  THK    CALL    OF    THE    SKA 

Shipwreck         <^        '^i^        ';;:>        ,<;^ 

(From  the  Aineid ;  trans.) 

'T^HUS  having  said,  whiding  the  point  of  his 

spear,  he  struck  the  hollow  mountain's  side 
and  the  winds,  as  in  a  formed  battalion,  rush  forth 
at  every  vent,  and  scour  over  the  lands  in  a  hurri- 
cane. They  press  upon  the  ocean,  and  at  once, 
east,  and  south,  and  stormy  south-west,  plough  up 
the  whole  deep  from  its  lowest  bottom,  and  roll 
vast  billows  to  the  shores.  The  cries  of  the  seamen 
succeed,  and  the  cracking  of  the  cordage.  In  an 
instant  clouds  snatch  the  heavens  and  day  from 
the  eyes  of  the  Trojans  :  sable  night  sits  brooding 
on  the  sea,  thunder  rolls  from  pole  to  pole,  the 
sky  glares  with  repeated  flashes,  and  all  nature 
threatens  them  with  immediate  death.  .  .  . 

A  tempest,  roaring  from  the  north,  strikes 
across  the  sail,  and  heaves  the  billows  to  the  stars. 
The  oars  are  shattered  :  then  the  prow  turns  away, 
and  exposes  the  side  to  the  waves.  A  steep  moun- 
tain of  waters  follows  in  a  heap.  These  hang  on 
the  towering  surge  ;  to  those  the  wide-yawning 
deep  discloses  the  earth  between  two  waves  :  the 
whirling  tide  rages  with  mingled  sand.  Three 
other  ships  the  south  wind,  hurrying  away,  throws 
on  hidden  rocks  ;  rocks  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean, 
which  the  Italians  call  Altars,  a  vast  ridge  rising 
to  the  surface  of  the  sea.     Three  from  the  deep 


VIRGIL  17 

the  east  wind  drives  on  shoals  and  flats,  a  piteous 
spectacle  !  and  dashing  on  the  shelves,  it  encloses 
them  with  mounds  of  sand.  Before  the  eyes  of 
^neas  himself,  a  mighty  billow,  falling  from  the 
height,  dashes  against  the  stern  of  one  which  bore 
the  Lycian  crew,  and  faithful  Orontes,  the  pilot,  is 
tossed  out  and  rolled  headlong,  prone  into  the 
waves ;  but  her  the  driving  surge  thrice  whirls 
around  in  the  same  place,  and  the  rapid  eddy 
swallows  up  in  the  deep. 

Then,  floating  here  and  there  on  the  vast  abyss, 
are  seen  men,  their  arms  and  planks,  and  the 
Trojan  wealth  among  the  waves.  Now  the  storm 
overpowered  the  stout  vessel  of  Ilioneus,  now  that 
of  brave  Achates,  and  that  in  which  Abas  sailed, 
and  that  in  which  old  Alethes  :  all,  at  their 
loosened  and  disjointed  sides,  receive  the  hostile 
stream,  and  gape  with  chinks.  .  .  . 

The  sire,  having  by  these  words  soothed  and 
cheered  the  heart  of  the  goddess,  yokes  his  steeds 
to  his  golden  car,  puts  the  foaming  bit  into  their 
fierce  mouths,  and  throws  out  all  the  reins.  Along 
the  surface  of  the  seas  he  nimbly  glides  in  his 
azure  car.  The  waves  subside,  and  the  swelling 
ocean  smooths  its  liquid  pavement  under  the 
thundering  axle  :  the  clouds  fly  off  the  face  of  the 
expanded  sky.  Then  appear  the  various  forms  of 
his  retinue,  unwieldy  whales,  and  the  aged  train 
C 


l8  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

of  Glaucus,  and  Palemon,  I  no's  son,  the  swift 
Tritons,  and  the  whole  band  of  Phorcus.  On  the 
left  are  Thetis,  Melite,  and  the  virgin  Panopa;, 
Nesa;e,  Spio,  ThaHa,  and  Cymodoce.  Upon  this, 
soft  joys  in  their  turn  diffuse  themselves  through 
the  anxious  soul  of  father  yEneas.  f^orthwith  he 
orders  all  the  masts  to  be  set  up,  and  the  yards  to 
be  stretched  along  the  sails.  At  once  they  all 
tacked  together,  and  together  let  go  sometimes 
the  left-hand  sheets,  sometimes  the  right :  at  once 
they  turn  and  turn  back  the  lofty  end  of  the  sail- 
yards  :  friendly  gales  waft  the  fleet  forward. 
Palinurus,  the  master-pilot,  led  the  closely-united 
squadron  :  towards  him  the  rest  were  ordered  to 
steer  their  course. 

And  now  the  dewy  night  had  almost  reached 
the  middle  of  her  course ;  the  weary  sailors, 
stretched  along  the  hard  benches  under  the  oars, 
relaxed  their  limbs  in  peaceful  repose  ;  when  the 
god  of  sleep,  gliding  down  from  the  ethereal  stars, 
parted  the  dusky  air,  and  dispelled  the  shades  ;  to 
you,  O  Palinurus,  directing  his  course,  visiting 
you,  though  innocent,  with  dismal  dreams  :  and 
the  god  took  his  seat  on  the  lofty  stern,  in  the 
similitude  of  Phorbas,  and  poured  forth  these 
words  from  his  lips  :  Palinurus,  son  of  lasius,  the 
seas  themselves  carry  forward  the  fleet ;  the  gales 
blow  fair  and  steady,  the  hour  for  rest  is  given. 
Recline  your  head,  and  steal  your  weary  eyes  from 


VIRGIL  19 

labour.  Myself  awhile  will  discharge  your  duty. 
To  whom  Palinurus,  with  difficulty  lifting  up  his 
eyes,  answers  :  Do  you  then  bid  me  be  a  stranger 
to  the  aspect  of  the  calm  sea  and  its  ciuiet  waves  ? 
Shall  I  confide  in  this  extraordinary  apparition? 
Why  should  I  trust  ^neas  to  the  mercy  of  the 
fallacious  winds,  after  having  been  so  often  de- 
ceived by  the  treacherous  aspect  of  a  serene  sky  ? 
These  words  he  uttered,  while,  fixed  and  clinging, 
he  did  not  part  with  the  rudder,  and  held  his  eyes 
directed  to  the  stars  ;  when,  lo  !  the  god  shakes 
over  both  his  temples  a  branch  drenched  in  the 
dew  of  Lethe,  and  impregnated  with  soporofic 
Stygian  influence  ;  and,  while  he  is  struggling 
against  sleep,  dissolves  his  swimming  eyes. 
Scarcely  had  unexpected  slumber  begun  to  relax 
his  limbs,  when  the  god,  leaning  on  him  with  part 
of  the  stern  broke  off,  plunged  him  headlong  into 
the  limpid  waves,  often  calling  on  his  friends  in 
vain  :  taking  flight,  raised  himself  on  his  wings 
aloft  into  the  air.  Meanwhile,  the  fleet  runs  its 
watery  course  on  the  plain  with  ecjual  security, 
and,  fearless,  is  conducted  by  father  Neptune's 
promises.  And  now,  wafted  forward,  it  was  even 
coming  up  to  the  rocks  of  the  Sirens,  once  difficult 
of  access,  and  white  with  the  bones  of  many  (at 
that  time  the  hoarse  rocks  resounded  far  with  the 
continual  buffeting  of  the  briny  waves)  ;  when 
father  /lineas  perceived  the  fluctuating  galley  to 


20  THE   CALL    OF   THP:   SEA 

reel,  having  lost  its  pilot  ;  and  he  himself  steered 
her  through  the  darkened  waves,  deeply  affected 
and  wounded  in  his  soul  for  the  misfortune  of  his 
friend.  Ah,  Palinurus,  who  hast  too  much  con- 
fided   in   the   fair   aspect   of  the   skies   and   sea ! 

naked  wilt  thou  lie  on  unknown  sands  ! 

Virgil. 


A  Stormy  Voyage        <:>        o        <:> 

(From  the  Tristia ;  trans.) 

A  H,  wretched  me  !  What  mountains  of  water 
'^  are  heaped  aloft !  You  would  think  that  this 
very  instant  they  would  reach  the  highest  stars. 
What  abysses  yawn  as  the  sea  recedes !  You 
would  suppose  that  this  very  instant  they  would 
extend  to  black  Tartarus.  On  whichever  side  you 
look,  there  is  nothing  but  sea  and  sky  ;  the  one 
swelling  with  billows,  the  other  lowering  with 
clouds.     Between  the  two  the  winds  rage  in  fear- 

ul  hurricane.  The  waves  of  the  ocean  know  not 
which  master  to  obey.  For  at  one  moment  Eurus 
gathers  strength  from  the  glowing  east,  at  another 
instant  comes  Zephyrus,  sent  from  the  evening 
west.  At  one  time  the  icy  Boreas  comes  ranging 
from  the  dry  north  ;  at  another,  the  south  wind 
wages  battle  with  adverse  front.  The  steersman 
15  at  fault :  and  he  knows  not  what  to  avoid,  or 


OVID  21 

what  course  to  take.  Skill  itself  is  at  a  loss  amid 
these  multiplied  evils. 

In  truth,  we  are  on  the  verge  of  destruction,  and 
there  is  no  hope  of  safety,  but  a  fallacious  one  ; 
as  I  speak,  the  sea  dashes  o'er  my  face.  The 
waves  will  overwhelm  this  breath  of  mine,  and  in 
my  throat,  as  it  utters  vain  entreaties,  shall  I 
receive  the  waters  that  are  to  bring  my  doom. 

But  meantime  my  affectionate  wife  is  bewailing 
nothing  else  but  that  I  am  an  exile ;  this  one 
portion  alone  of  my  misery  does  she  know  and 
lament.  She  is  not  aware  how  my  body  is  tossed 
on  the  boundless  ocean  ;  she  knows  not  that  I 
am  driven  to  and  fro  by  the  winds  ;  she  knows 
not  that  death  is  impending  o'er  me.  'Tis  well, 
ye  Gods,  that  I  suffered  her  not  to  embark  with 
me  :  so  that  death  might  not  have  to  be  twice 
endured  by  wretched  me  !  But  now,  although  I 
perish,  since  she  is  safe  from  danger,  doubtless  I 
shall  still  survive  in  her  one  half  of  myself. 

Ah,  wretched  me  !  how  the  clouds  glisten  with 
the  instantaneous  flash.  How  dreadful  the  peal 
that  re-echoes  from  the  sky  of  heaven.  The 
timbers  of  our  sides  are  struck  by  the  waves,  with 
blows  no  lighter  than  when  the  tremendous  charge 
of  the  balista  beats  against  the  walls.  The  wave 
that  now  is  coming  on  o'ertops  all  the  others  ; 
'tis  the  one  that  comes  after  the  ninth  and  before 
the  eleventh. 


22  THE   CALL    OF   THE    SEA 

I  fear  not  death  ;  'tis  the  dreadful  kind  of  death  ; 
take  away  the  shipwreck  ;  then  death  will  be  a 
gain  to  me.  'Tis  something  for  one,  either  dying 
a  natural  death  or  by  the  sword,  to  lay  his  breath- 
less corpse  in  the  firm  ground,  and  to  impart  his 
wishes  to  his  kindred,  and  to  hope  for  a  sepulchre, 
and  not  to  be  food  for  the  fishes  of  the  sea.   .   .   . 

The  guardian  of  the  Erymanthian  Bear  is  im- 
mersed in  the  ocean,  and  by  the  influence  of  her 
Constellation  arouses  the  waves,  while  I  am 
ploughing  the  Ionian  Sea  by  no  inclination  of 
my  own  ;  but  apprehension  itself  forces  me  to  be 
bold.  Ah,  wretched  me  !  by  how  tremendous  a 
gale  is  the  sea  aroused,  and  how  the  sand  seethes 
again  as  it  is  ploughed  up  from  the  lowest  depths. 
The  waves,  no  lower  than  a  mountain,  are  hurled 
over  the  prow  and  the  curving  poop,  and  dash 
against  the  resemblances  of  the  Deities.  The  pine- 
wood  texture  creaks  ;  the  rigging,  with  loud  noise, 
is  beaten  to  and  fro ;  and  the  very  ship  groans 
responsively  to  my  woes.  The  sailor,  betraying 
his  fear  by  the  paleness  of  an  ice-cold  chill,  now 
passively  follows  his  bark  o'ercome  by  the  storm, 
and  guides  it  not  by  his  skill.  Just  as  the  driver, 
failing  in  his  strength,  loosens  the  useless  reins  on 
a  horse  of  unbending  neck,  so  do  I  behold  our 
charioteer  set  the  sails  of  the  ship,  not  in  the 
direction  that  he  desires,  but  whither  the  raging 


OVID  23 

current  of  the  sea  is  driving  us  ;  and  unless  iColus 
sends  breezes  from  another  quarter,  I  shall  be 
carried  to  lands  now  forbidden  to  be  approached 
by  me.  For,  Illyria  being  descried  afar  to  the 
left,  the  forbidden  shores  of  Italy  are  beheld  by 
me.  May  the  wind,  I  pray,  cease  to  blow  towards 
the  forbidden  regions,  and  together  with  me,  may 
it  obey  the  great  Deity.  While  I  am  speaking, 
and  am,  at  the  same  moment,  both  longing  and 
fearing  to  be  hurried  back  again,  with  what  tre- 
mendous force  does  the  wave  lash  upon  our  sides ! 
Spare  me,  ye  Deities  of  the  azure  ocean,  spare 
me ;  let  it  be  enough  that  Jove  is  incensed  with 
me  :  save  my  wearied  life  from  a  cruel  death,  if, 
indeed,  one  who  is  already  undone  can  possibly  be 
saved  from  perishing. 

Ovid. 


For  the  Fi.sherman        -c:^        '^^v        <^ 

(From  the  Ilalicuticon  ;  trans.) 

"DUT  I  would  not  recommend  you  to  go  out 
into  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  nor  to  try  the 
depths  of  the  open  sea.  You  will  do  better  to 
regulate  your  cable  according  to  each  kind  of 
locality.  At  one  time,  the  spot  may  be  rugged 
with  rocks  ;  such  demands  the  jjliant  fishing-rods 
whereas  the  smooth  sliorc  requires  the  net.  Dues 
some  lofty  mountain  send  its  deepening  shadows 


44  THE   CALL    OF   THE    SEA 

over  the  sea,  according  to  their  different  natures, 
some  fish  avoid,  and  some  seek,  such  a  spot.  If 
the  sea  is  green  from  the  weeds  that  grow  at  the 
bottom  ...  let  him  apply  patience,  and  let  him 
watch  by  the  soft  seaweed.  Nature  has  designed^ 
in  a  varied  manner,  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and 
she  has  not  willed  that  all  fish  should  frequent  the 
same  haunts  ;  for  there  are  some  that  love  the 
open  sea,  such  as  the  mackerel,  and  the  sea-ox, 
and  the  darting  hippurus,  and  the  gurnet  with  its 
swarthy  back,  and  the  valuable  helops,  unknown 
in  our  waters,  and  the  hardy  sword-fish,  not  less 
dangerous  than  a  sword  with   its  blow,  and  the 

timid  tunnies  that  fly  in  large  shoals.  .  .  . 

Ovid. 


II 

CHARACTER   OF   THE   SEA 


I  cannot  see  the  heavings  ot  this  prodigious  bulk  of 
waters,  even  in  a  calm,  without  a  very  pleasing-  astonish- 
ment ;  but  when  it  is  worked  up  in  a  tempest,  so  that  the 
horizon  on  every  side  is  nothing  but  foaming  billows  and 
floating  mountains,  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the  agree- 
able horror  that  rises  from  such  a  prospect.  A  troubled 
ocean,  to  a  man  who  sails  upon  it,  is,  I  think,  the  biggest 
object  that  he  can  see  in  motion,  and,  consequently, 
gives  his  imagination  one  of  the  highest  kinds  of  pleasure 
that  can  arise  from  greatness. 

Joseph  Addison  (from  The  Spectator). 


The  Disturber        <:><:>        ^:::y 

(From  The  Sands  of  Pleasure) 

'T'HE  sea  is  the  great  disturber.  Nothing 
human  can  endure  for  long  unchanged  in 
its  presence ;  no  work  of  man's  hands,  or  of  his 
thoughts,  or  even  of  his  character  and  quahties, 
but  must  uUimately  go  down  before  its  eternal 
force  ;  nothing  of  himself,  flesh  or  spirit,  but  must 
thrill  and  change  with  the  pulses  of  its  unquiet 
heart.  Its  vastness  is  confounding,  and  towers 
over  us,  dwindling  us  to  pin-points  of  unimport- 
ance ;  beside  its  movements,  calm  and  punctual, 
laid  out  in  cycles  of  the  everlasting,  the  most 
majestic  of  our  actions  seem  as  petty  as  the  fret- 
ting trill  of  an  insect's  wing  ;  its  storms  hush  our 
wars  and  revolutions  ;  our  deepest  silences  are 
audible  in  its  profound  calms  ;  and  within  its  age 
the  twinkling  moments  of  our  life  pass  and  dis- 
appear unheeded  into  the  murk  of  eternity. 

Filson   Young. 


27 


28  THE   CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

The  Unsympathetic        '^i.'        o        ^c> 
(From  Ireland  at  the  Cross  Roads) 

AND  so  to-day  the  Irish  who  dwell  within 
■^^  journey  of  these  wild  shores  retain  in  their 
nature  the  dislike  and  terror  of  the  sea.  Its 
mists  relax  their  energies,  it  fills  them  with  a 
sense  of  something  always  greater  than  them- 
selves that  can  bring  their  efforts  to  instant  and 
disastrous  confusion.  While  they  inhabit  these 
shores,  though  they  build  boats  and  cast  nets 
and  go  abroad  in  a  timid  search  for  the  sea's 
treasures,  they  can  have  nothing  in  common  with 
it  but  the  reflection  of  its  bright  shining  in  their 
eyes,  and  the  movements  of  its  unquiet  heart  in 
their  blood. 

The  sea,  indeed,  does  little  for  Ireland.  Into 
the  stately  waterways  of  Cork,  of  Gal  way,  of 
Limerick,  the  tide  twice  a  day  comes  brimming 
up,  filling  with  its  inexhaustible  flood  the  spaces 
between  the  imposing,  empty  warehouses.  But 
its  majestic  invitation  goes  unheeded  ;  the  beauti- 
ful buildings,  raised  when  Ireland  had  a  popula- 
tion and  a  trade,  are  crumbling  and  deserted ; 
great  chambers  that  once  resounded  with  the 
inspiring  clamour  of  business,  know  it  no  longer; 
and  where  formerly  the  stevedores  sweated,  carts 
rattled,  and  merchants  made  their  exchanges,  little 
barefoot  children  now  play  undisturbed  in  the  sun- 


FILSON    YOUNG  29 

shine.  These  western  ports  were  nol)ly  furnished 
by  nature  and  by  man  for  the  accommodation  of 
shipping,  but  the  ships  pass  them  by  far  out  at 
sea.  They  just  exist,  derehct  and  hilf  ruinous, 
unvisited  save  by  the  punctual  tides. 

And  along  a  coast,  unmatched  in  the  world  for 
its  bays  and  inlets  and  roadsteads,  you  may  note 
blight  and  desolation  marking  the  sea's  revenges. 
Denied  its  toll  of  commerce  and  ocean-going 
ships,  it  sweeps  round  the  coast  from  Donegal  to 
Cork,  savagely  withholding  support  and  liveli- 
hood. To  look  at  the  map  one  might  think  there 
was  not  a  mile  along  the  western  coast  of  Ireland 
where  a  boat  could  not  be  launched  ;  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  places  where  the  business  of  fish- 
ing can  be  carried  on  are  but  few  and  far  between. 
The  bays  are  there,  and  the  deep  water  road- 
steads ;  but  the  little  breakwaters  and  harbours 
in  the  shelter  of  which  small  boats  might  be  kept, 
are  missing  —  there  is  no  money  to  build  them. 
The  great  Atlantic  surges  come  smashing  in  from 
their  thousand  miles  journeys,  unchecked  by  any 
artifice  of  man,  and  where  they  throw  their  weight 
on  the  shore  no  boats  can  profitably  be  kept.  .  .  . 
.  .  .  And  if  at  the  fall  of  some  summer  evening 
you  walk  along  a  mile  of  these  lonely  shores,  you 
may  almost  believe  you  are  the  last  man  alive  on 
the  earth.  The  country  untillcd,  ung razed,  rolls 
upon  every  side  upwards  to  the  clouds.     There  is 


30  THE   CALL   OF    THE   SEA 

not  a  sign  of  man  or  of  beast  ;  not  even  the  bark 
of  a  dog,  that  wholesome  signal  of  human  occupa- 
tion, falls  on  your  ear.  The  world  seems  like  a 
house  from  which  the  inhabitants  have  gone  out 
and  locked  the  door  behind  them,  and  left  you  to 
look  in  through  the  windows  at  the  empty  roorps. 
The  silence  is  broken  only  by  the  crying  of  the 
gulls  and  by  the  lap  of  the  waves  on  the  shore. 
They  come  marching  in  from  the  sunset  line  from 
the  cold,  restless  desert  of  the  ocean,  reminding 
the  solitary  watcher  of  the  one  ultimate  solution 
of  all  human  problems.  For  the  ocean  is  the  one 
great  living  thing  in  all  this  solitary  prospect,  the 
thing  that  was  from  the  beginning  and  will  always 
be ;  it  alone,  with  its  wrinkled  inscrutable  face  and 
mysterious  respirations,  is  an  earnest  of  the  things 
that  go  on.  What  wonder  if  the  peasant,  standing 
amid  the  ruin  of  human  industry  on  its  margin, 
should  regard  it  as  the  separating  barrier  between 
him  and  the  world .''  Enemy  and  avenger  though 
it  be,  the  track  of  the  sunset  across  it  seems  the 
one  escape  from  it,  the  one  pathway  to  hope  and 
the  fulfilment  of  life.  What  wonder  if  he  also 
should  "  long  to  tread  that  golden  path  of  rays," 
and  believe  that  it  must  indeed  lead  him  to  some 
brighter  destiny  ? 

Filso7i   Youtig. 


EDMONDO    DE   AMICIS  3 1 

The  Terrible        ^>        <:>         ^:>        -<o 

(From  A  Description  of  Spain  ;  trans.) 

T^HE  ocean  encircles  the  ultimate  bounds  of  the 
inhabited  earth,  and  all  beyond  it  is  unknown. 
No  one  has  been  able  to  verify  anything  concern- 
ing it,  on  account  of  its  difficult  and  perilous  navi- 
gation, its  great  obscurity,  its  profound  depth,  and 
frequent  tempests,  through  fear  of  its  mighty  fishes, 
its  haughty  winds  ;  yet  there  are  many  islands  in 
it,  some  peopled,  others  not.  There  is  no  mariner 
that  dares  enter  on  its  deep  waters,  or  those  who 
have  done  so  have  merely  kept  along  its  coasts, 
fearful  of  departing  from  them.  The  waves  of  this 
ocean,  though  they  roll  as  high  as  mountains,  yet 
maintain  themselves  unbroken,  for  if  they  broke, 
then  no  ship  could  plough  them. 

Edrisi. 

The  Inert        ^;iy        'Cy        -^li,,        -<;:%, 

(From  SuirOccano) 

T  L  mare  si  moslrava  quella  maltina  in  uno  de 
suoi  aspelti  piii  brutti  e  piii  odiosi  :  immobile 
sotto  una  volta  bassa  di  nuvole  gonfie  e  inerti,  di 
colore  giallo  sporco,  d'un'apparenza  viscida,  come 
se  fosse  tutta  una  belletta  di  terra  grassa,  in  cui  un 
rampone  da  pesca  avesse  a  rimanere  confitto  come 


32  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

una  stecca  nel  mastice ;  e  pareva  che  non  vi  doves- 
sero  guizzare  dei  pesci,  ma  delle  bestie  deformi  e 
immonde,  del  suo  slesso  colore.  Un  aspetto  simile 
presentano  forse  le  pianure  della  regione  occi- 
dentale  del  Mar  Caspio,  quando  son  copcrte  dalle 
eruzioni  dei  vulcani  di  fango.  Se  fosse  vero  che 
questo  immenso  mare,  salato  come  il  sangue,  e 
dotato  d'una  circolazione,  d'un  polso  e  d'un  cuore, 
non  e  un  elemento  inorganico,  ma  uno  smisurato 
animale  vivcnte  e  pensante,  avrei  detto  quella 
mattina  ch'egli  volgeva  in  mente  i  piii  sconci  pen- 
sieri,  farneticando  in  uno  stato  di  mezzo  assopi- 
mento,  come  un  bruto  briaco.  Ma  neanche  risveg- 
liava  I'idea  della  vita,  poiche  non  v'era  un  respiro 
di  vento,  e  sulla  sua  faccia  non  appariva  ne  una 
contrazione  ne  una  ruga.  Dava  I'immagine  di 
quell'  angolo  d'oceano  deserto,  rimasto  per  molto 
tempo  inesplorato,  che  si  stende  fra  la  corrente  di 
Humboldt  e  quella  che  le  va  incontro  dal  centro 
del  Pacifico,  posto  fuori  delle  grandi  vie  della 
navigazione,  dove  non  si  vede  ne  vela,  ne  balena, 
nh  gavotta,  ne  alcione  ;  dai  confini  del  quale  tutto 
fugge,  ogni  indizio  di  vita  dispare  ;  e  se  il  vento 
o  la  tempesta  vi  gettano  qualche  volta  un  basti- 
mento  smarrito,  pare  ai  navigatori  di  esser  caduti 
nelle  acque  d'un  mondo  morto. 

Ei^mondo  de  Amicis. 


p.    F.    XAVIER    DE    CHARLEVOIX  33 

The  Boundless        ^o        ^;:>        o 

(From  Cosmos;  trans.) 

A  LL  who  possess  an  ordinary  degree  of  mental 
activity,  and  dehght  to  create  to  themselves 
an  inner  world  of  thought,  must  be  penetrated  with 
the  sublime  image  of  the  infinite,  when,  gazing 
around  them  on  the  vast  and  boundless  sea,  in- 
voluntarily the  glance  is  attracted  to  the  distant 
horizon  where  air  and  water  blend  together,  and 
the  stars  continually  rise  and  set  before  the  eyes  of 
the  mariner.  This  contemplation  of  the  eternal 
play  of  the  elements  is  clouded,  like  every  human 
joy,  by  a  touch  of  sadness  and  of  longing. 

Von  I  I  urn  bo  hit. 


The  Excitable        >c2>-        ^^i^        ^^:> 

(From  A  History  of  St.  Dofnitti;;o ;  trans.) 

HTHE  sea  of  those  islands  is  commonly  more 
tranquil  than  ours  ;  but,  like  certain  people 
who  are  excited  with  difficulty,  and  whose  trans- 
ports of  passion  arc  as  violent  as  they  are  rare,  so 
when  the  sea  becomes  irritated,  it  is  terrible.  It 
breaks  all  bounds,  overflows  the  country,  sweeps 
away  all  things  that  oppose  it,  and  leaves  frightful 
ravages  behind  to  mark  the  extent  of  its  inunda- 
tions. It  is  after  these  tempests,  known  by  the 
u 


34  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

name  of  hurricanes,  that  the  shores  are  covered 
with  marine  shells,  which  greatly  compass  in  lustre 
and  beauty  those  of  the  European  seas. 

P.  F.  Xavier  de  Charlevoix. 


B' 


The  Image  of  It        -^::^        "^^        ^^ 

(From  The  Harbours  of  England) 

[UT  Turner  found  during  his  Southern  Coast 
tour  that  the  sea  was  not  this  :  that  it  was,  on 
the  contrary,  a  very  incalculable  and  unhorizontal 
thing,  setting  his  "  water-mark  "  sometimes  on  the 
highest  heavens,  as  well  as  on  sides  of  ships  ;— very 
breakable  into  pieces,  half  of  a  wave  separable  from 
the  other  half,  and  on  the  instant  carriageable 
miles  inland  ;— not  in  any  wise  limiting  itself  to  a 
state  of  apparent  liquidity,  but  now  striking  like 
a  steel  gauntlet,  and  now  becoming  a  cloud  and 
vanishing,  no  eye  could  tell  whither ;  one  moment 
a  flint  cave,  the  next  a  marble  pillar,  the  next  a 
mere  white  fleece,  thickening  the  thundery  rain. 
He  never  forgot  those  facts  ;  never  afterwards  was 
able  to  recover  the  idea  of  positive  distinction 
between  sea  and  sky,  or  sea  and  land.  Steel 
gauntlet,  black  rock,  white  cloud,  and  men  and 
masts  gnashed  to  pieces  and  disappearing  in  a 
few  breaths  and  splinters  among  them  ; — a  little 
blood  on  the  rock  angle,  like  red  seaweed,  sponged 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI  35 

away  by  the  next  splash   of  the  foam,  and   the 

glistening  granite  and  green  water  all  pure  again 

in  vacant  wrath.     So  stayed  by  him,  for  ever,  the 

,  Image  of  the  Sea. 

John  Ritskin. 


How  to  Paint  It        '^^        ^^        <:^ 

(From  MS.  Notebooks  ;  trans. ) 

T  F  you  wish  to  represent  a  tempest  properly, 
consider  and  set  down  exactly  what  are  the 
results  when  the  wind  blowing  over  the  face  of 
the  sea  and  of  the  land  lifts  and  carries  with  it 
every  thing  that  is  not  immovable  in  the  general 
mass.  .  .  .  Let  the  sea  be  wild  and  tempestuous, 
and  between  the  crests  of  its  waves  it  should  be 
covered  with  eddying  foam,  and  the  wind  should 
carry  the  finer  spray  through  the  stormy  air  after 
the  manner  of  a  thick  and  all-enveloping  mist. 
Of  the  ships  that  are  there,  some  you  should  show 
with  sail  rent  and  the  shreds  of  it  flapping  in  the 
air  in  company  with  the  broken  halyards,  and 
some  of  the  masts  broken  and  gone  by  the 
board,  and  the  vessel  itself  lying  disabled  and 
broken  by  the  fury  of  the  waves,  with  some  of 
the  crew  shrieking  and  clinging  to  the  fragments 
of  the  wreck.  You  should  show  the  clouds,  driven 
by  the  impetuous  winds,  hurled  against  the  high 
mountain  tops,  and  there  wreathing  and  eddying 


36  THE   CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

like  waves  that  beat  upon  the  rocks  ;  the  very 
air  should  strike  terror  through  the  murky  dark- 
ness occasioned  therein  by  the  dust  and  mist  and 
thick  clouds. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

The  Cunning"        ^i^        '"c^.-        •<::> 

(From  Les  Travailleurs  de  la  Jl/er) 

■pv'ORDINAIRE  la  mer  cache  ses  coups.  Elle 
reste  volontiers  obscure.  Cette  ombre  in- 
commensurable garde  tout  pour  elle.  II  est  tr^s 
rare  que  le  myst^re  renonce  au  secret.  Certes, 
il  y  a  du  monstre  dans  la  catastrophe,  mais  en 
quantity  inconnue.  La  mer  est  patente  et  secrete ; 
elle  se  ddrobe,  elle  ne  tient  pas  k  divulguer  ses 
actions.  Elle  fait  un  naufrage,  et  le  recouvre  ; 
I'engloutissement  est  sa  pudeur.  La  vague  est 
hypocrite  ;  elle  tue,  rec^le,  ignore  et  sourit.  Elle 
rugit,  puis  moutonne. 

Victor  Hugo. 

The  Malicious        <:>        ^^^        ^;:> 

(From  The  Mirror  of  the  Sea) 

A  LREADY  I  looked  with  other  eyes  upon  the 
sea.      I    knew   it    capable    of  betraying   the 
generous   ardour  of  youth  as  implacably  as,  in- 
different to  evil  and  good,  it  would  have  betrayed 


CHARLES    KINGSI.EY  37 

the  basest  greed  or  the  noblest  heroism.  My  con- 
ception of  its  magnanimous  greatness  was  gone. 
And  I  looked  upon  the  true  sea  —  the  sea  that 
plays  with  men  till  their  hearts  are  broken,  and 
wears  stout  ships  to  death.  Nothing  can  touch 
the  brooding  bitterness  of  its  heart.  Open  to  all 
and  faithful  to  none,  it  exercises  its  fascination  for 
the  undoing  of  the  best.  To  love  it  is  not  well. 
It  knows  no  bond  of  plighted  troth,  no  fidelity  to 
misfortune,  to  long  companionship,  to  long  devo- 
tion. The  promise  it  holds  out  perpetually  is 
very  great ;  but  the  only  secret  of  its  possession  is 
strength,  strength — the  jealous,  sleepless  strength 
of  a  man  guarding  a  coveted  treasure  within  his 
gates. 

Joseph  Conrad. 


The  Opaque        -o        'O        ''O 

(From  At  Last) 

"\  7ERY  remarkable,  meanwhile,  and  unexpected, 
was  the  opacity  and  seeming  solidity  of  the 
ocean  when  looked  down  on  from  the  bows. 
Whether  sapphire  under  the  sunlight,  or  all  but 
black  under  the  clouds,  or  laced  and  streaked  with 
beads  of  foam,  rising  out  of  the  nether  darkness,  it 
looks  as  if  it  could  resist  the  hand  ;  as  if  one  might 
almost  walk  on  it ;  so  unlike  any  liquid,  as  seen 


38  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

near  shore  or  inland,  is  this  leaping,  heaving  plain, 

reminding    one,   by    its    innumerable    conchoidal 

curves,  not  of  water,  not  even  of  ice,  but  rather  of 

obsidian. 

Charles  Kingsley. 


Ill 

SCENERY 


Cape  Cod  is  the  bared  and  bended  arm  of  Massachu- 
setts :  the  shoulder  is  at  Buzzard's  Bay  ;  the  elbow,  or 
crazy-bone,  at  Cape  Mallebarre ;  the  wrist  at  Truro ; 
and  the  sandy  fist  at  Provincetown,— behind  which  the 
State  stands  on  her  guard,  with  her  back  to  the  Green 
Mountains,  and  her  feet  planted  on  the  floor  of  the  ocean, 
like  an  athlete  protecting-  her  Bay, — boxing  with  north- 
east storms,  and,  ever  and  anon,  heaving  up  her  Atlantic 
adversary  from  the  lap  of  earth,— ready  to  thrust  forward 
her  other  fist,  which  keeps  guard  the  while  upon  her 
breast  at  Cape  Ann. 

H.  D.  Thoreau, 


Perspective  of  the  Cliffs        <:>        ^o 

(From  The  Spirit  of  Place) 

TT  is  the  law  whereby  the  eye  and  the  horizon 
answer  one  another  that  makes  the  way  up  a 
hill  so  full  of  universal  movement.  All  the  land- 
scape is  on  pilgrimage.  The  town  gathers  itself 
closer,  and  its  inner  harbours  literally  come  to 
light;  the  headlands  repeat  themselves;  little  cups 
within  the  treeless  hills  open  and  show  their  farms. 
In  the  sea  are  many  regions.  A  breeze  is  at  play 
for  a  mile  or  two,  and  the  surface  is  turned.  There 
are  roads  and  curves  in  the  blue  and  in  the  white. 
Not  a  step  of  your  journey  up  the  height  that  has 
not  its  replies  in  the  steady  motion  of  land  and 
sea.  Things  rise  together  like  a  flock  of  many- 
feathered  birds.  .  .  . 

...  Up  at  the  top  of  the  seaward  hill  your  first 
thought  is  one  of  some  compassion  for  sailors, 
inasmuch  as  they  see  but  little  of  their  sea.  A 
child  on  a  mere  Channel  cliff  looks  upon  spaces 
and  sizes  that  they  cannot  see  in  the  Pacific,  on 
the  ocean  side  of  the  world.  Never  in  the  solitude 
of  the  blue  water,  never  between  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  and  Cape  Horn,  never  between  the  Islands 
and  the  West,  lias  the  seaman  seen  anything  but  a 
little  circle  of  sea.     The  Ancient  Mariner,  when  he 

4» 


42  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

was  alone,  did  but  drift  through  a  thousand  narrow 
sohtudes.  The  sailor  has  nothing  but  his  mast, 
indeed.  And  but  for  his  mast  he  would  be  isolated 
in  as  small  a  world  as  that  of  a  traveller  through 
the  plains. 

Round  the  plains  the  horizon  lies  with  folded 
wings.  It  keeps  them  so  perpetually  for  man,  and 
opens  them  only  for  the  bird,  replying  to  flight 
with  flight. 

A  dose  circlet  of  waves  is  the  sailor's  famous 
offing.  His  ofifing  hardly  deserves  the  name  of 
horizon.  To  hear  him  you  might  think  something 
of  his  offing,  but  you  do  not  so  when  you  sit  down 
in  the  centre  of  it. 

As  the  upspringing  of  all  things  at  your  going  up 
the  heights,  so  steady,  so  swift,  is  the  subsidence 
at  your  descent.  The  further  sea  lies  away,  hill 
folds  down  behind  hill.  The  whole  upstanding 
world,  with  its  looks  serene  and  alert,  its  distant 
replies,  its  signals  of  many  miles,  its  signs  and 
communications  of  light,  gathers  down  and  pauses. 
This  flock  of  birds,  which  is  the  mobile  landscape, 
wheels  and  goes  to  earth.  The  Cardinal  weighs 
down  the  audience  with  his  downward  hands. 
Farewell  to  the  most  delicate  horizon. 

Alice  Mcynell. 


KDEN    PHII.I. POTTS  43 

The  Cliffs  of  Devon         <:>        -o        ^o 

(From  My  Devon  Year) 

"M"  O  county  is  richer  in  splendour  of  great  preci- 
pices  looking  out  upon  broad  and  narrow 
seas  than  this  our  Devon ;  but  though  the  southern 
cliffs  lack  that  awful  austerity  and  abiding  gloom 
of  the  northern  crags,  though  their  pinnacles  and 
serrated  edges  and  escarpments  are  but  pigmies  in 
altitude  when  compared  with  the  huge  foreheads 
that  frown  upon  the  Atlantic  from  Welcombe  to 
the  Foreland,  yet  Nature  has  compensated  their 
shortcomings  of  size,  and  bestowed  upon  them 
a  beauty  and  an  infinite  variety  of  colour  and 
form  not  met  with  where  the  great  ocean  waves 
break  and  thunder  at  their  journey's  end.  There, 
even  though  the  sea  has  slept  for  many  summer 
days,  and  sinks  and  rises  with  peace  as  profound 
and  suggestive  as  the  slumber  of  a  giant,  the 
accustomed  striving  and  unrest  are  reflected  in 
the  dark  precipices  above  it,  in  the  tremendous 
acclivities  and  tiie  prevalent  geological  formation 
of  huge  and  gloomy  planes  that  suck  up  direct 
sunshine,  as  a  sponge  soaks  liquid,  and  are 
nothing  brightened.  They  stare,  these  huge  cliff- 
faces,  with  blind  eyes  into  the  West  ;  they  call  for 
sad  human  hearts  to  chime  with  their  soljriety  ; 
they  breathe  of  ceaseless  war,  of  agonized  battle 
with  the  West  wind  and  all  its  unnumbered  hosts 


44  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

of  the  sea.  Setting  sunlight  gilds  their  slaty  shale, 
and  brightens  it  into  polished  ebony  and  into 
gold  ;  they  frown  at  the  evening  light  until  its 
glory  dies  and  the  foam-ridges  glimmer  grey  ;  then 
familiar  darkness  huddles  down  upon  them,  and 
they  wait  alert,  watchful,  for  the  first  sigh  of  the 
awakened  enemy,  the  first  throb  and  spout  of 
some  giant  wave  at  their  feet.  These  cliffs  im- 
press some  spirits  with  aversion,  yet  from  others 
they  win  such  sympathy  in  their  struggle  as  Pro- 
metheus himself  won,  but  seldom  the  scorched 
and  blasted  crags  of  Caucasus  that  made  his 
pillow.  .  .  . 

There  came  now  a  growing  growl  from  the 
waters,  and  here  and  there,  against  some  solitary 
seaward  rock,  a  sheaf  of  silver  feathers  shone 
upwards,  then  fell  with  a  sigh  to  fret  the  wave  that 
brought  it.  The  tide  came  in  again,  and  as  it 
returned,  sweeping  the  ledges  one  by  one,  lifting 
their  shaggy  weeds,  pouring  pure  sea  into  each 
pool,  sliding  nearer  and  nearer  with  gentle,  hog- 
backed  waves  that  hid  their  strength,  I  passed 
before  it  and  retreated  by  cliff-ways  where  the 
honeysuckle,  the  golden-rod,  and  the  burnet-rose 
flourished  together  aloft,  and  made  no  quarrel  with 
the  wind    that    dwarfed    and    stunted   them   and 

robbed  them  of  adult  shape. 

Eden  Phillpotts. 


SIR    WALTER    SCOTT  45 

The  Cliffs  of  Scotland        <c>        ^v 

(From  The  Pirate) 

T  N  front  lay  the  sea,  into  which  two  headlands, 
which  formed  the  extremities  of  the  bay,  pro- 
jected their  gigantic  causeways  of  dark  and  sable 
rocks,  on  the  ledges  of  which  the  gulls,  scouries, 
and  other  sea-fowl  appeared  like  flakes  of  snow  ; 
while,  upon  the  lower  ranges  of  the  cliff,  stood 
whole  lines  of  cormorants,  drawn  up  alongside  of 
each  other,  like  soldiers  in  their  battle  array,  and 
other  living  thing  was  there  none  to  see.  The  sea, 
although  not  in  a  tempestuous  state,  was  disturbed 
enough  to  rush  on  these  capes  with  a  sound  like 
distant  thunder,  and  the  billows,  which  rose  in 
sheets  of  foam  half-way  up  these  sable  rocks, 
formed  a  contrast  of  colouring  equally  striking  and 
awful. 

Betwi.xt  the  extremities,  or  capes,  of  these  pro- 
jecting headlands  there  rolled,  on  the  day  when 
Mertoun  visited  the  scene,  a  deep  and  dense 
aggregation  of  clouds,  through  which  no  human 
eye  could  penetrate,  and  which,  bounding  the 
vision,  and  excluding  all  view  of  the  distant  ocean, 
rendered  it  no  unapt  representation  of  the  sea  in 
the  Vision  of  Mirza,  whose  extent  was  concealed 
by  vapours,  and  clouds,  and  storms.  The  ground, 
rising  steeply  from  the  sea-beach,  permitting  no 
view  into  the  interior  of  the  country,  appeared 


46  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

scene  of  irretrievable  barrenness,  where  scrubby 
and  stunted  heathy  intermixed  with  the  long  bent 
or  coarse  grass,  which  first  covers  sandy  soils,  were 
the  only  vegetables  that  could  be  seen. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 


An  Essex  Sea-Marsh        <i>.        <::> 

(From  Mehalak) 

"DETWEEN  the  mouths  of  the  Blackwater  and 
the  Colne,  on  the  east  coast  of  Essex,  lies  an 
extensive  marshy  tract  veined  and  freckled  in 
every  part  with  water.  It  is  a  wide  waste  of 
debatable  ground  contested  by  sea  and  land,  sub- 
ject to  incessant  incursions  from  the  former,  but 
stubbornly  maintained  by  the  latter.  At  high  tide 
the  appearance  is  that  of  a  vast  surface  of  moss  or 
Sargasso  weed  floating  on  the  sea,  with  rents  and 
patches  of  shining  water  traversing  and  dappling 
it  in  all  directions.  The  creeks,  some  of  consider- 
able length  and  breadth,  extend  many  miles  in- 
land, and  are  arteries  whence  branches  out  a 
fibrous  tissue  of  smaller  channels,  flushed  with 
water  twice  in  the  twenty-four  hours.  At  noon- 
tides, and  especially  at  the  equinoxes,  the  sea 
asserts  it  royalty  over  this  vast  region,  and  over- 
flows the  whole,  leaving  standing  out  of  the  flood 
only  the   long   island  of  Mersea,  and  the  lesser 


REV.    S.    BARING-GOULD  47 

islet,  called  the  Ray.  This  latter  is  a  hill  of  gravel 
rising  from  the  heart  of  the  Marshes,  crowned 
with  ancient  thorn  trees,  and  possessing,  what  is 
denied  the  mainland,  an  unfailing  spring  of  purest 
water.  At  ebb,  the  Ray  can  only  be  reached  from 
the  old  Roman  causeway,  called  the  Strood,  over 
which  runs  the  road  from  Colchester  to  Mersea 
Isle,  connecting  formerly  the  city  of  the  Trino- 
bantes  with  the  station  of  the  count  of  the  Saxon 
shore.  But  even  at  ebb,  the  Ray  is  not  approach- 
able by  land  unless  the  sun  or  east  wind  has 
parched  the  ooze  into  brick  ;  and  then  the  way  is 
long,  tedious  and  tortuous,  among  bitter  pools 
and  over  shining  creeks.  It  was  perhaps  because 
this  ridge  of  high  ground  was  so  inaccessible,  so 
well  protected  by  nature,  that  the  ancient  in- 
habitants had  erected  on  it  a  raih^  or  fortified 
camp  of  wooden  logs,  which  left  its  name  to  the 
place  long  after  the  timber  defences  had  rotted 
away. 

A  more  desolate  region  can  scarce  be  conceived, 
and  yet  it  is  not  without  beauty.  In  summer,  the 
thrift  mantles  the  marshes  with  shot  satin,  passing 
through  all  gradations  of  tint  from  maiden's  blush 
to  lily  while.  Thorcafter  a  purijle  glow  steals  over 
the  waste,  as  the  sea  lavender  bursts  into  (lower, 
and  simultaneously  every  creek  and  pool  is  royally 
fringed  with  sea  aster.  A  little  later  the  glass- 
wort,    that    shot    up    green    and    transparent    as 


48  THE   CALL   OF   THE    SEA 

emerald  glass  in  the  early  spring,  turns  to  every 
tinge  of  carmine. 

Rev.  S.  Barinsr-Gould. 


A  Sea  Cavern        -vi^        -Cy        <::v 

(From  Alalcehn) 

TT E  had  forgotten  how  beautiful  it  was,  and 
stood  amazed  at  the  richness  of  its  colour, 
imagining  he  had  come  upon  a  cave  of  the  serpen- 
tine marble  which  is  found  on  the  coast ;  for  sides 
and  roof  and  rugged  floor  were  gorgeous  with 
bands  and  spots  and  veins  of  green  and  rusty  red. 
A  nearer  inspection,  however,  showed  that  these 
hues  were  not  of  the  rock  itself,  but  belonged  to 
the  garden  of  the  ocean  ;  and  when  he  turned  to 
face  the  sea,  lo!  they  had  all  but  vanished,  the 
cave  shone  silvery  grey,  with  a  faint  moving 
sparkle,  and  out  came  the  lovely  carving  of  the 
rodent  waves.  All  about,  its  sides  were  fretted  in 
exquisite  curves,  and  fantastic  yet  ever  graceful 
knots  and  twists  ;  as  if  a  mass  of  gnarled  and 
contorted  roots,  first  washed  of  every  roughness 
by  some  ethereal  solvent,  leaving  only  the  soft 
lines  of  yet  grotesque  volutions,  had  been  trans- 
formed into  mingled  silver  and  stone. 

George  Macdonald. 


IV 
NIGHT    AND    DAY 


Most  weird  and  fantastic  are  these  nightly  visits  to  West 
Indian  harbours.  Above,  the  black  mountain-depths, 
writh  their  canopy  of  cloud,  bright  white  against  the 
purple  night,  hung  with  keen  stars.  The  moon,  it  may 
be  on  her  back  in  the  west,  sinking  like  a  golden  goblet 
behind  some  rock-fort,  half  shrouded  in  black  trees. 
Below,  a  line  of  bright  mist  over  a  swamp,  with  the  coco- 
palms  standing  up  through  it,  dark,  and  yet  glistering  in 
the  moon.  .  .  .  The  echo  of  the  gun  from  hill  to  hill.  Wild 
voices  from  shore  and  sea.  The  snorting  of  the  steamer, 
the  rattling  of  the  chain  through  the  hawse-hole;  and  on 
deck,  and  under  the  quarter,  strange  gleams  of  red  light 
amid  pitchy  darkness,  from  engines,  galley  fires,  Ian- 
thorns ;  and  black  folk  and  white  folk  flitting  restlessly 
across  them, 

Charles  Ki7tgsley  (from  At  Last). 


Night  on  a  Steamer        <::>        -cy        ^o 

( From  Essays  of  Travel) 

T  T  was  a  bleak  and  uncomfortable  day  ;  but  at 
night,  by  six  bells,  although  the  wind  had  not 
yet  moderated,  the  clouds  were  all  wrecked  and 
blown  away  behind  the  rim  of  the  horizon,  and  the 
stars  came  out  thickly  overhead.  I  saw  Venus 
burning  as  steadily  and  sweetly  across  this  hurly- 
burly  of  the  winds  and  waters  as  ever  at  home 
upon  the  summer  woods.  The  engine  pounded, 
the  screw  tossed  out  of  the  water  with  a  roar,  and 
shook  the  ship  from  end  to  end  ;  the  bows  battled 
with  loud  reports  against  the  billows  ;  and  as  I 
stood  in  the  lee-scuppers  and  looked  up  to  where 
the  funnel  leaned  out,  over  my  head,  vomiting 
smoke,  and  the  black  and  monstrous  topsails 
blotted,  at  each  lurch,  a  different  crop  of  stars, 
it  seemed  as  if  all  this  trouble  were  a  thing  of 
small  account,  and  that  just  above  the  mast 
reigned  peace  unbroken  and  eternal. 

R.  L.  Stevenson. 


52  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

Night  in  a  Cornish  Port        ^^3'        <2y 

(From  Lying  Prophets) 

T  T  NDER  moonlight,  the  returning  Uiggers  crept 
homewards,  hke  inky  silhouettes  on  a  back- 
ground of  dull  silver.  Every  moment  added  to 
the  forest  of  masts  anchored  at  the  moorings  out- 
side the  harbour  ;  every  minute  another  riding- 
hght  glimmered  and  another  rowing-boat  shot 
between  the  granite  piers,  to  slide  silently  within 
the  darkness  under  shore,  as  it  left  moonlit  rings 
widening  out  behind  at  each  dip  of  the  oars.  Joan 
sat  down  under  the  lighthouse  and  waited  in  the 
stillness  for  her  father's  boat.  Yellow  flashes, 
like  fireflies,  twinkled  along  through  Newlyn,  and 
above  them  the  moon  brought  out  square  patches 
of  silver-bright  roof,  seen  through  a  blue  night. 
Now  and  then  a  bell  rang  in  the  harbour,  and 
lights  leapt  here  and  there  mingling  red  snakes 
and  streamers  of  fire  with  the  white  moonbeams 
where  they  lay  on  still  water.  Then  Joan  knew 
the  fish  were  being  sold  by  auction,  and  she  grew 
anxious  for  her  father's  return,  fearing  that  prices 
might  have  fallen  before  he  arrived.  Great  periods 
of  silence  lay  between  the  ringings  of  the  bell,  and 
at  such  times  faint  laughter  and  voices  floated  out 
from  shore,  blocks  chipped  and  rattled  as  sails 
came  down,  a  concertina  squeaked  fitfully  where 
it  was   played   on   a    Norwegian   ice-boat  at  the 


ALPHONSE    MARIE    LOUIS    LAMARTINE        53 

harbour  quay.  The  tide  was  coming  in,  and 
Joan  watched  many  Ughts  reflected  in  the  har- 
bour, and  wondered  why  the  gold  of  them  con- 
trasted so  ill  with  the  silver  from  the  moon. 

Eden  Phillpotts. 

Night  on  the  Mediterranean        -c:^        -c^ 

(From  Voyage  en  Orient') 

A  U-DESSUS  du  corps  soml)re  du  batiraent,  le 
nuage  de  toutes  ses  voiles  ctait  groupc  pitto- 
resquement  et  pyramidait  autour  de  ses  mats.  Elles 
s'^levaient  d'etages  en  (5tages,de  vergues  en  vergues, 
d^coupees  en  mille  formes  bizarres,  deroul^es  en 
plis  larges  et  profonds,  semblables  aux  nombreuses 
et  hautes  tourelles  d'un  chateau  gothique  groupees 
autour  du  donjon  ;  elles  n'avaient  ni  le  mouvement 
ni  la  couleur  dclatante  et  dorde  des  voiles  vues  de 
loin  sur  les  flots  pendant  le  jour  ;  immobiles,  ternes 
et  teintes  par  la  nuit  d'un  gris  ardoisd,  on  eut  dit 
une  vol<^e  de  chauves-souris  immenses,  ou  d'oiseaux 
inconnus  des  mers,  abattus,  presses,  serr^s  les  uns 
centre  les  autres  sur  un  arbre  gigantesque,  et  sus- 
pendus  a  son  tronc  ddpouillc,  au  clair  de  lunc 
d'une  nuit  d'hiver.  L'ombre  dc  ce  nuage  de  voiles 
dcsccndait  d'en  haut  sur  nous  et  nous  dcrobait  la 
moitid  de  I'horizon.  Jamais  plus  colossale  et  plus 
dtrange   vision    de    la    mer    n'apparut   h   I'esprit 


54  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

d'Ossian  dans  un  songe.  Toute  la  poesie  des  flots 
etait  Ik.  La  ligne  bleue  de  I'horizon  se  confondait 
avec  celle  du  ciel ;  tout  ce  qui  reposait  dessus  et 
dessous  avait  I'apparenced'un  seul  fluide  etherddans 
lequel  nous  nagions.  Tout  ce  vague  sans  corps  et 
sans  limites  augmentait  I'efFet  de  cette  apparition 
gigantesque  de  la  fregate  sur  les  flots,  et  jetait 
Fame  avec  I'oeil  dans  la  meme  illusion.  II  me 
semblait  que  la  fregate,  la  pyramide  aerienne  de 
sa  voilure  et  nous-memes,  nous  etions  tous  en- 
semble souleves,  emportds,  comme  des  corps 
celestes  dans  les  abimes  liquides  de  I'dther,  ne 
portant  sur  rien,  planant  par  une  force  int^rieure 
sur  le  vide  azure  d'un  universel  firmament. 

Alphonsc  Marie  Louis  Lamar  tine. 


Dawn  on  the  Iceland  Banks        ^^^^        ^^:> 

(From  Pcchcur  d'' hlandc) 

T  LS  avaient  tous  veillc  la  nuit  d'avant  et  attrapd, 
en  trente  heures,  plus  de  niille  morues  tres 
grosses  ;  aussi  leurs  bras  forts  dtaient  las,  et  ils 
s'endormaient.  Leurs  corps  veillait  seul,  et  con- 
tinuait  de  lui-meme  sa  manoeuvre  de  peche,  tandis 
que,  par  instants,  leur  esprit  flottait  en  plein 
sommeil.  Mais  cet  air  du  large  qu'ils  respiraient 
etait  vierge  comme  aux  premiers  jours  du  mond,  et 
si  vivifiant  que,  malgre  leur  fatigue,  ils  se  sentaient 


PIERRE    LOTI  55 

la  poitrine  dilatce  et  les  joues  fraiches.  La 
lumiere  matinale,  la  lumiere  vraie,  avait  fini  par 
venir;  comme  au  temps  de  la  Genese  elle  s'etait 
separee  d'avec  les  tenebres  qui  semblaient  s'etre 
tassees  sur  I'horizon,  et  restaient  Ik  en  masses  tres 
lourdes  ;  en  y  voyant  si  clair  on  s'apercevait  bien  k 
present  qu'on  sortait  de  la  nuit, — que  cette  lueur 
d'avant  avait  ^te'  vague  et  etrange  comme  celle  des 
reves. 

Dans  ce  ciel  tres  couvert,  tres  epais,  il  y  avait  9k 
et  la  des  d^chirures,  comme  des  percees  dans  un 
dome,  par  oil  arrivaient  de  grands  rayons  couleur 
d'argent  rose.  Les  nuages  inferieurs  etaient  dis- 
poses en  une  bande  d'ombre  intense,  faisant  tout 
le  tour  des  eaux,  emplissant  les  lointains  d'indcci- 
sion  et  d'obscuritc.  lis  donnaient  I'illusion  d'un 
espace  fermd,  d'une  limite  ;  ils  etaient  comme  des 
rideaux  tirds  sur  I'infini,  comme  des  voiles  tendus 
pour  cacher  de  trops  gigantesques  mysteres  qui 
eussent  trouble  I'imagination  des  hommes. 

Ce  matin -la,  autour  du  petit  assemblage  de 
planches  qui  portait  Yann  et  Sylvestre,  Ic  monde 
changeant  du  dehors  avait  pris  un  aspect  de  re- 
cueillement  immense  ;  il  s'dtait  arrange  en  sanctu- 
aire,  et  les  gerbes  de  rayons,  qui  entraient  par  les 
train(5es  de  cette  voute  de  temple,  s'allongaicnt  en 
reflets  sur  I'eau  immobile  comme  sur  un  parvis  de 
marbre.  Et  puis,  peu  a  peu,  on  vit  s'eclairer  tres 
loin  une  autre  chimere  :    une  sortc  de  decoupure 


$6  THE   CALL    Ol'    THE   SEA 

rosce  trcs  haute,  qui  etait  un  promontoire  de  la 
sombre  Islande.  .  .  . 

Pierre  Loti. 


Dawn  in  the  Lighthouse        <i>-        -"O 

(From  Many  Inventions) 

C\^  the  English  south-coast  Lights,  that  of  St. 
Cecilia-under-the-Cliff  is  the  most  powerful, 
for  it  guards  a  very  foggy  coast.  When  the  sea- 
mist  veils  all,  St.  Cecilia  turns  a  hooded  head  to 
the  sea  and  sings  a  song  of  two  words  once  every 
minute.  From  the  land  that  song  resembles  the 
bellowing  of  a  brazen  bull  ;  but  off-shore  they 
understand,  and  the  steamers  grunt  gratefully  in 
answer. 

Fenwick,  who  was  on  duty  one  night,  lent  me  a 
pair  of  black  glass  spectacles,  without  which  no 
man  can  look  at  the  Light  unblinded,  and  busied 
himself  in  last  touches  to  the  lenses  before  twi- 
light fell.  The  width  of  the  English  Channel 
beneath  us  lay  as  smooth  and  as  many-coloured 
as  the  inside  of  an  oyster  shell.  A  little  Sunder- 
land cargo-boat  had  made  her  signal  to  Lloyd's 
Agency,  half  a  mile  up  the  coast,  and  was  lumber- 
ing down  to  the  sunset,  her  wake  lying  white  behind 
her.  One  star  came  out  over  the  cliffs,  the  waters 
turned  to  lead  colour,  and  St.  Cecilia's  Light  shot 
out  across    the    sea    in    eight  long    pencils   that 


RUDYARD    KIPLING  57 

wheeled  slowly  from  right  to  left,  melted  into  one 
beam  of  solid  light  laid  down  directly  in  front  of 
the  tower,  dissolved  again  into  eight,  and  passed 
away.  The  light-frame  of  the  thousand  lenses 
circled  on  its  rollers,  and  the  compressed-air 
engine  that  drove  it  hummed  like  a  bluebottle 
under  a  glass.  The  hand  of  the  indicator  on  the 
wall  pulsed  from  mark  to  mark.  Eight  pulse- 
beats  timed  one  half-revolution  of  the  Light  ; 
neither  more  nor  less.   .    .   . 

..."  Look,"  he  answered,  and  I  saw  that 
the  dead  sea-mist  had  risen  out  of  the  lifeless  sea 
and  wrapped  us  while  my  back  had  been  turned. 
The  pencils  of  the  Light  marched  staggeringly 
across  tilted  floors  of  white  cloud.  P'rom  the 
balcony  round  the  light-room  the  white  walls  of 
the  lighthouse  ran  down  into  swirling,  smoking 
space.  The  noise  of  the  tide  coming  in  very 
lazily  over  the  rocks  was  choked  down  to  a  thick 
drawl.    .    .    . 

.  .  .  Fenwick  left  his  chair,  passed  to  the 
Light,  touched  something  that  clicked,  and  the 
glare  ceased  with  a  suddenness  that  was  pain. 
Day  had  come,  and  the  Channel  needed  St. 
Cecilia  no  longer.  The  sea-fog  rolled  back  from 
the  cliffs  in  trailed  wreaths  and  dragged  patches, 
as  the  sun  rose  and  made  the  dead  sea  alive  and 
splendid.  The  stillness  of  the  morning  held  us 
both  silent  as   we   stepped   on   the   balcony.     A 


58  THE    CALL    OK    THE    SEA 

lark  went  up  from  the  cliffs  behind  St.  Cecilia, 
and  we  smelt  a  smell  of  cows  in  the  lighthouse 
pastures  below. 

Then  we  were  both  at  liberty  to  thank  the  Lord 
for  another  day  of  clean  and  wholesome  life. 

Rudyard  Kipling. 

(From  The  Sands  of  Pleasure) 

JUST  before  dawn  he  went  out  again  to  the 
balcony,  and  watched  the  grey  daylight  filter 
and  spread  through  the  darkness.  As  it  in- 
creased, the  rays  from  the  light  fell  shorter  and 
fainter,  helpless  to  prevail,  for  all  their  power, 
against  the  light  that  was  coming.  Out  of  the 
gloom  rose  the  coasts  and  the  land,  and  with  the 
falling  of  the  wind  and  the  absence  of  its  salt 
odours,  the  smell  from  the  earth  came  off,  rich  and 
fragrant,  in  the  morning  air.  The  waves,  un- 
fretted  by  the  wind,  rolled  in  deep  and  heavy,  at 
first  a  dull  grey,  and  then,  as  the  light  increased, 
a  furrowed  sea  of  deepest  indigo.  The  eastern 
horizon  was  banked  with  clouds,  above  which  the 
reflection  of  the  hidden  fires  of  dawn  began  to 
wash  the  sky  with  opalescent  tints,  and  to  kindle 
a  glow  of  saffron  on  the  crests  of  the  breaking 
waves.  Suddenly,  behind  him,  Richard  heard  a 
click  ;  the  glare  ceased,  and  the  roar  of  the 
ventilator  died  away. 


MORLEY    ROBERTS  59 

"Sunrise,  sir,"  said  the  keeper,  with  his  watch 
in  his  hand  ;  and  together  they  looked  eastward, 
where  an  edge  of  gold  was  eating  into  the  banked 
clouds  on  the  horizon. 

Filson  Yoims. 


Dawn  on  a  Cargo  Boat        -o        -;::> 
(From  A  Tramp's  Notebook) 

"DUT  that's  the  dawn  I 

Morning,  and  the  glory  of  it,  the  grey  wash 
of  Eternity  ;  sea-grey  and  world-grey  and  sky- 
grey,  all  in  one  great  wash  with  a  little  whiteness 
standing  for  daylight.  Beyond  the  illimitable 
wash  where  the  sea  breaks  against  the  sky  is 
the  sun  ;  source  of  all,  strength  of  all.  And  there 
is  no  sleep  to  wash  out  of  our  eyes  before  we 
catch  up  strength  from  it,  and  encouragement. 
Lately  we  might  have  raised  the  Ajax  cry,  "  In  the 
light,  in  the  light,  destroy  us"  ;  but  now  we  see  the 
little  sea-plant  of  grey-green  grow  in  the  east,  and 
we  are  strong.  There  is  light,  or  a  blight,  a  grey- 
ness  out  ahead,  and  the  deck  whitens  all  awash, 
and  the  "old  man"  shivers  in  his  oilskin  coat  as 
he  hangs  on  to  a  pin  in  the  rail  to  watch  us.  The 
poop  is  wet  and  gleaming,  wet  with  the  spray  of 
following  seas,  and,  as  our  ship  rolls,  the  swash 
of  shipped  seas  hisses,  and  her  cleanness  is  as  the 
cleanness   of  something    newly  varnished.     Once 


6o  THE    CALL    OF    THE   SEA 

and  again  as  she  rolls  (the  wind  now  quartering) 
the  scuppers  spout  geyser-like  and  gurgle.  .  .  . 
The  light  leapt  from  crest  to  crest,  and  a  little  pale 
yellow  blossom  of  blown  dawn  peeped  out  of  the 
grey.  Like  a  touch  of  fire  it  reanimated  our 
washed  and  reeling  world  ;  we  laughed  as  we 
dropped  down  after  our  three  hours'  battle  with 
the  demons  of  the  air.     It  was  morning.  .  .  . 

Morley  Roberts. 


V 
WEATHER 


The  whole  of  the  luggage  was  carelessly  thrown  to- 
gether, and  among  which  were  the  poor  suffering  pas- 
sengers, many  of  them  ladies,  rolling  in  sickness  and 
everything  that  was  filthy,  with  the  risk  of  having  their 
brains  beat  out.  Our  getting  into  the  boat  which  came 
alongside  was  so  far  bad  that  we  (bought  it  miraculous 
that  only  two  passengers  fell  overboard.  All  our  cam- 
paigning was  a  joke,  for  the  time  it  lasted,  to  these  four 
hours  and  a  half. 

Colonel  Peter  Hawker  (from  his  Diary). 


I.  CALM 
Calm  on  the  Mediterranean        <;^        <::y 

(From  Voyage  en  Orient) 

T  E  vent  est  mort  et  rien  n'annonce  son  retour. 
La  surface  du  golfe  n'a  pas  un  pli  ;  la  mer  est 
si  plane  qu'on  y  distingue  9k  et  Ik  I'impression  des 
ailes  transparentes  des  moustiques  qui  flottent  sur 
ce  miroir,  et  qui  seules  le  ternissent  a  cette  heure. 
Voila  done  h  quel  degrd  de  calme  et  de  mansuctude 
peut  descendre  cet  element  qui  souleve  les  vais- 
seaux  k  trois  ponts  sans  connaitre  leur  poids,  qui 
ronge  des  lieues  de  rivage,  use  des  coUines  et  fend 
les  rochers,  brise  les  montagnes  sous  le  choc  de 
ses  lames  mugissantes  !  Rien  n'est  si  doux  que  ce 
qui  est  fort.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Un  calme  absolu  nous  a  surpris  k  douze 
lieues  en  mer;  il  dure  encore.  Aucun  vent  dans  le 
ciel,  si  ce  n'est  quelques  brises  perdues  qui  vien- 
nent  de  temps  en  temps  froisser  les  voiles  des 
deux  vaisseaux  ;  dies  font  rendre  a  ces  grandes 
voiles  une  palpitation  sonore,  un  battement  ir- 
regulier  semblablc  au  battement  convulsif  des 
ailes  d'un  oiseau  qui  meurt  ;  la  mer  est  plane 
et  polie  comme  la  lame  d'un  sabre ;  pas  une 
ride,  mais,  de  loin  en  loin,  de  larges  ondulations 
cylindriques  qui  se  glissent  sous  le  navire  et 
63 


64  THE    CALL    OF   THE    SEA 

I'dbranlent  comme  un  tremblement  souterrain. 
Toute  la  masse  des  milts,  des  vergues,  des  hau- 
bans,  des  voiles,  craque  et  frdmit  alors,  ainsi  que 
sous  un  vent  trop  lourd.  .  .  . 

...  La  mer,  a  mon  rdveil,  apres  une  nuit  ora- 
geuse,  semble  jouer  avec  le  reste  du  vent  d'hiver  ; 
r^cume  la  couvre  encore  comnie  les  flocons  a  demi 
essuyds  qui  tachent  les  flancs  du  cheval  fatigud 
d'une  longue  course,  ou  comme  ceux  que  son  mors 
secoue  quand  il  abaisse  et  releve  la  tete,  impatient 
d'une  nouvelle  carriere.  Les  vagues  courent  vite, 
irregulierement,  mais  Idgeres,  peu  profondes,  trans- 
parentes  ;  cette  mer  ressemble  h  un  champ  de 
belle  avoine  ondoyant  aux  brises  d'une  matinee  de 
printemps  apres  une  nuit  d'averse.  .  .  . 

Alphonse  Marie  Louis  Lamar  line. 


The  Mystery  of  a  Calm        ^^i>.        ^o 

(From  A  Sack  of  Shakings) 

T  T  OW  shall  I  speak  of  the  voice  of  the  calm  ? 
How  describe  that  sound  which  mortal  ear 
cannot  hear?  The  pen  of  the  inspired  writers 
alone  might  successfully  undertake  such  a  task,  so 
closely  in  touch  as  they  were  with  the  Master 
Mind.  "When  the  morning  stars  sang  together, 
and  all  the  Sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy."  Some- 
thing akin  to  this  sublime  daring  of  language  is 


F.    T.    BULLEN  65 

needed  to  convey  a  just  idea  of  what  floods  the 
soul  when  alone  upon  the  face  of  the  deep  in  a 
perfect  calm.  The  scale  of  that  heavenly  harmony 
is  out  of  our  range.  We  can  only  by  some  subtle 
alchemy  of  the  brain  distil  from  that  celestial 
silence  the  voices  of  angels  and  archangels  and  all 
the  glorious  company  of  heaven.  Between  us  and 
them  is  but  a  step,  but  it  is  the  threshold  of  the 
timeless  dimension.  Again  and  again  I  have  seen 
men,  racked  through  and  through  with  a  very 
agony  of  delight,  dash  aside  the  thralls  that  held 
them,  sometimes  with  passionate  tears,  more  often 
with  raging  words  that  grated  harshly  upon  the 
velvet  stillness.  They  felt  the  burden  of  the  flesh 
grievous,  since  it  shut  them  out  from  what  they 
dimly  felt  must  be  bliss  unutterable,  not  to  be  con- 
tained in  any  earthen  vessel.  On  land  a  thousand 
things,  even  in  a  desert,  distract  the  attention, 
loose  the  mind's  tension  even  when  utterly  alone. 
But  at  sea,  the  centre  of  one  vast  glassy  circle, 
shut  in  on  every  hand  by  a  perfect  demi-globe 
as  flawless  as  the  mirror  whereon  you  float,  with 
even  the  softest  undulation  imperceptible,  and  no 
more  motion  of  the  atmosphere  than  there  is  in  a 
perfect  vacuum,  there  is  absolutely  nothing  to 
come  between  the  Soul  of  Man  and  the  Infinite 
Silences  of  Creation.  There  and  there  only  is  it 
possible  to  realize  what  underlies  that  mighty  line, 
"There  was  silence  in  Heaven  for  the  space  of 
F 


66  THE   CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

half  an  hour."  Few  indeed  are  the  men,  however 
rough  and  unthinking,  that  are  not  quieted  and 
impressed  by  the  marvel  of  a  perfect  calm.  But 
the  tension  is  too  great  to  be  borne  long  with 
patience.  Men  feel  that  this  majestic  environ- 
ment is  too  redolent  of  the  coming  paradise  to  be 
supportable  by  flesh  and  blood.  They  long  with  in- 
tense desire  for  a  breeze,  for  motion,  for  a  change 
of  any  sort.  So  much  so  that  long-continued  calm 
is  dreaded  by  seamen  more  than  any  other  phase 
of  sea-experience.  And  yet  it  is  for  a  time  lovely 
beyond  description,  soothing  the  jarring  nerves 
and  solemnizing  every  faculty  as  if  one  were  to  be 
shut  in  before  the  Shekinah  in  the  Holy  of  Holies. 

It  is  like  the  Peace  of  God. 

F.  T.  BuUen. 


Calm  off  the  Horn         ^:i>.        ■<;:>        ^> 

(From  A  Tarpaulin  Ahislcr) 

/~\FF  Cape  Horn  there  are  but  two  kinds  of 
^^^  weather,  neither  one  of  them  a  pleasant  kind. 
If  you  get  the  fine  kind,  it  is  dead  calm,  without 
enough  wind  to  lift  the  wind  vane.  The  sea  lies 
oily  and  horrible,  heaving  in  slow,  solemn  swells, 
the  colour  of  soup.  The  sky  closes  down  upon 
the  sea  all  round  you,  the  same  colour  as  the 
water.  The  sun  never  shines  over  those  seas, 
though  sometimes  there  is  a  red  flush,  in  the  east 


JOHN    MASEFIELD  6"] 

or  in  the  west,  to  hint  that  somewhere,  very  far 
away,  there  is  daylight  brightening  the  face  of 
things. 

If  you  are  in  a  ship  in  the  Cape  Horn  calm,  you 
forge  ahead,  under  all  sail,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  an 
hour.  The  swell  heaves  you  up  and  drops  you, 
in  long,  slow,  gradual  movements,  in  a  rhythm 
beautiful  to  mark.  You  roll,  too,  in  a  sort  of 
horrible  crescendo,  half  a  dozen  rolls  and  a  lull. 
You  can  never  tell  when  she  will  begin  to  roll. 
She  will  begin  cjuile  suddenly,  for  no  apparent 
reason.  She  will  go  over  and  over  with  a  rattling 
clatter  of  blocks  and  chains.  Then  she  will  swing 
back,  groaning  along  the  length  of  her,  to  slat 
the  great  sails  and  set  the  reef  points  flogging,  to 
a  great  clack  and  jangle  of  staysail  sheets.  Then 
over  she  will  go  again,  and  back,  and  again  over, 
rolling  further  each  time.  At  the  last  of  her  rolls 
there  comes  a  great  clattering  of  tins,  as  the  galley 
gear  and  whack  pots  slither  across  to  leeward, 
followed  by  cursing  seamen.  The  iron  swing-pots 
bang  to  and  fro.  The  straining  and  groaning 
sounds  along  her  length.  Every  block  aloft  clacks 
and  whines.  The  sea  splashes  up  the  scuppers. 
The  sleepers  curse  her  from  their  bunks  for  a 
drunken  drogher.  Then  she  lets  u|)  and  stands 
on  her  dignity,  and  rolls  no  more  for  perhaps 
another  quarter  of  an  hour. 

/ohn  Mau/icld. 


68  THE  CALL    OF    THE   SEA 

II.    CHANGE   OF   WEATHER 

In  the  South  Seas        -'^        o        ^^ 

(From  Matelot) 

"]\ /r  AIS  un  soir,  une  immense  nu^e  obscure  surgit 

k  I'horizon   du   sud,   envahissante,   formant 

tout  de  suite  voute  de  tdnebres.     Et  le  bon  vent 

tomba,   et,    dans    I'air    subitement    refroidi,   deux 

grands    albatros,    les    premiers,    apparurent, 

betes  de  I'Austral  sombre.  Dans  la  lumi^re  di- 
minu^e,  dans  I'humiditd  pdndtrante  qu'on  sentait 
descendre  comme  un  manteau  glacd  sur  les 
dpaules,  c'dtait  sinistre  de  s'enfoncer,  k  une 
tombde  de  nuit,  dans  ces  regions  incertaines  que 
recouvrait  ce  voile  de  nuages  et  ou  les  pires  sur- 
prises du  temps  dtaient  c\  redouter. 

Le  lendemain,  tout  avait  changd  d'aspect  k  bord 
de  la  Saone  que  le  soleil  n'dclairait  plus.  Au  lieu 
des  chapeaux  de  paille,  au  lieu  des  gais  costumes 
en  toile  propre  et  blanche,  on  voyait  reparaitre 
les  laines  bleues,  raphes,  fanees,  trouees  de  mites 
et  de  cancrelas,  et  les  vieux  bonnets  de  fatigue 
enfoncds  plus  bas  que  les  oreilles.  Et,  sur  le  pont, 
c'dtait  une  agitation  extraordinaire  parmi  les 
manoeuvriers.  De  solides  voiles  toutes  neuves 
arrivaient  d'en  bas,  apportdes  k  I'dpaule  par  des 
rangdes  d'hommes,  en  longs  corteges  oscillantes. 


PIERRE    LOTI  69 

Des  filins  de  couleur  blonde,  neufs  aussi  et  sentant 
le  goudron,  sortaient  des  cales  ;  les  matelots  s'at- 
telaient  dessus,  puis  prenaient  leur  course  et  les 
tiraient,  vite,  vite,  comme  des  serpents  sans  fin. 

Tout  cela  se  faisait  en  musique  et,  dans  I'air 
devenu  apre,  salubre  aux  poitrines  vigoureuses 
mais  mortel  aux  affaiblis,  les  sififlets  d'argent  con- 
stamment  roulaient  leurs  trilles  suraigus.  On  se 
pr^parait  k  la  lutte  prochaine  contra  le  vent  et 
centre  la  mer  des  zones  mauvaises.  lis  tour- 
noyaient,  les  albatros,  tres  rapprochds — les  memes 
qu'hier,  acharnds  peut-ctre  pour  des  semaines  k 
suivre  le  sillage  du  navire, — et  ils  criaient  sans 
treve  de  leur  vilaine  voix  gdmissante,  qui  semble 
le  grincement  d'une  girouette  ou  d'une  poulie 
rouillde.  Et  le  quartier-maitre  de  I'arri^re,  outrd 
de  toujours  les  entendre,  leur  disait,  son  sifflet 
serrd  entre  les  dents  et  leur  montrant  le  poing  : — 

"  Tu  ferais  pas  mal  de  graisser  un  peu  ta  poulie,  toi, 
les  deux  grands  sales  moineaux,  la-bas  ! " 

Le  fait  est  qu'ils  avaient  Pair  de  chanter  h.  la  mort, 
ces  deux  albatros. 

Pierre  Loti. 


70-  THE   CALI,    OF   THK   SEA 

III.    FOG 

The  Walls  of  Grey        -^^        <:v        •<^ 

(From  The  Sea  Wolf) 

'T^HEN  we  entered  the  fog.  It  was  about  us, 
veiling  and  hiding  us  in  its  dense  wet  gauze. 
The  sudden  transition  was  startling.  The 
moment  before  we  had  been  leaping  through  the 
sunshine,  the  clear  sky  above  us,  the  sea  breaking 
and  rolling  wide  to  the  horizon,  and  a  ship,  vomit- 
ing smoke  and  fire  and  iron  missiles,  rushing 
madly  upon  us.  And  at  once,  as  in  an  instant's 
leap,  the  sun  was  blotted  out,  there  was  no  sky, 
even  our  mastheads  were  lost  to  view,  and  our 
horizon  was  such  as  tear-blinded  eyes  may  see. 
The  grey  mist  drove  by  us  like  a  rain.  Every 
woollen  filament  of  our  garments,  every  hair  of 
our  heads  and  faces,  was  jewelled  with  a  crystal 
globule.  The  shrouds  were  wet  with  moisture  ; 
it  dripped  from  our  rigging  overhead  ;  and  on 
the  underside  of  our  booms  drops  of  water  took 
shape  in  long  swaying  lines,  which  were  detached 
and  flung  to  the  deck  in  mimic  showers  at  each 
surge  of  the  schooner.  I  was  aware  of  a  pent, 
stifled  feeling.  As  the  sounds  of  the  ship,  thrust- 
ing herself  through  the  waves,  were  hurled  back 
upon  us  by  the  fog,  so  were  one's  thoughts.  The 
mind  recoiled  from  contemplation  of  a  world  be- 


WILLIAM    LITHGOW  7 1 

yond    this   wet   veil   which   wrapped    us   around. 

This  was  the  world,  the  universe  itself,  its  bounds 

so  near  one  felt  impelled  to  reach  out  both  arms 

and  push  them  back.     It  was  impossble  that  the 

rest  could  be  beyond  these  walls  of  grey.     The 

rest  was  a  dream,  no  more  than  the  memory  of 

a  dream. 

Jack  London. 

IV.  STORM 

The  Sorrowful  Maister's  Predicament    ^o 

(From  Rare  Advcnfures) 

npHE  sorrowful  Maister,  seeing  nothing  but 
shipwrack  tooke  the  Helme  in  hand,  directing 
his  course  to  rush  upon  the  face  of  a  low  Rocke, 
whereupon  the  sea  most  fearefully  broke.  As  wc 
touched  the  Mariners  contending  who  should  first 
leape  out,  some  fell  over-boord,  and  those  that  got 
land  were  pulled  backe  by  the  reciprocating  waves  : 
Neither  in  all  this  time  durst  I  once  move  ;  for 
they  had  formerly  sworne,  if  I  pressed  to  escape, 
before  the  rest  were  first  forth,  they  would  throw 
me  headlong  into  the  sea  :  So  lieing  two  wayes  in 
danger  of  death,  I  patiently  offered  up  my  jjrayers 
to  God. 

At  our  first  encounter  with  llic  Rocks,  (our  fore- 
decks,   and    IJoates   gallery   being    broke,   and   a 


72  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

great  Lake  made)  the  recoiling  waves  brought  us 
backe  from  the  Shelfes  a  great  way  ;  which  the 
poore  Master  perceiving,  and  that  there  were 
seven  men  drowned,  and  eleven  persons  alive, 
cryed  with  a  loud  voyce :  Be  of  good  courage, 
take  up  oares,  and  row  hastily  ;  it  may  be,  before 
the  Barke  sinke,  we  shall  attaine  to  yonder  Cave, 
which  then  appeared  to  our  sight :  Every  man 
working  for  his  owne  deliverance  (as  it  pleased 
God)  we  got  the  same  with  good  fortune  :  for  no 
sooner  were  we  disbarked,  and  I  also  left  the 
last  man,  but  the  Boat  immediately  sunke.  There 
was  nothing  saved  but  my  Coffino,  which  I  kept 
alwaies  in  my  amies. 

William  Lithgow. 


The  Fires  of  St.  Elmo        -^o        ^o 

(From  Voyages ;  Hakluyt  Soc. ,  trans.) 

'IP HE  Captain,  therefore,  ordered  the  ships  to 
proceed  on  their  course  until  the  4th  of  Feb- 
ruary, when  they  found  themselves  near  another 
island,  which,  being  of  so  little  profit,  did  them 
much  harm,  and  the  previous  night  had  been 
passed  in  great  trouble.  For  there  was  a  cross 
sea,  and  the  force  of  the  wind  was  so  great  that 
they  could  not  run  before  it,  not  even  under 
courses.  The  night  closed  in,  and  soon  afterwards 
a  black  and  thick  mass  of  clouds  rose  from  the 


PEDRO    FERNANDES    DE   QUIROS  73 

N.E.,  directing  its  course  on  the  ships  with  such 
speed  and  fury  that  all  were  obliged  to  seek 
safety.  The  ships  received  the  squall,  heeling 
over  on  their  sides,  while  the  sea  rose,  seeming  to 
intend  to  engulph  them.  The  lightning,  which 
traversed  the  air,  seemed  to  leave  the  heavens 
torn.  It  was  a  great  tempest,  with  many  and 
very  great  peals  of  thunder.  Three  thunderbolts 
fell,  which  caused  no  small  confusion  ;  while  the 
water  did  not  cease  to  fall  from  the  heavens,  with 
dark  and  thick  rain,  combined  with  squalls  of 
wind,  from  which  the  least  harm  that  could  be 
hoped  for  was  to  tear  out  the  masts.  They  lighted 
lanterns  in  the  castles  to  show  to  the  other  ships. 
But  terrified  voices  continued  to  be  heard  from  the 
sailors,  with  cries  of  "  Keep  clear!  Luff!  Keep 
away ! "  fearing  that  there  would  be  collisions. 
All  was  hurry,  confusion,  and  trouble,  for  it  was  a 
fearful  night,  and  the  end  uncertain.  Some  cried, 
"  Make  sail !  "  others,  "  Sound  the  well !  "  We  were 
ready  to  cut  away  the  masts,  and  had  up  the  axes. 
In  short,  all  was  tribulation  and  anxiety,  chiefly 
because  there  was  no  certainty  whether  there  was 
any  safety  where  the  ships  were. 

The  Father  Commissary,  with  a  cross  In  his 
hands,  stood  until  the  weather  cleared,  offering  up 
prayers.  Then,  as  the  sailors  call  it,  St.  Elmo 
appeared,  whom  they  saluted  three  times  with  great 
devotion.     At  Icngtli   the  night  came  to  an  end. 


74  THE   CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

which,  owing  to  the  horror  and  confusion,  appeared 
very  long  ;  but  they  were  saved  (after  God),  owing 
to  the  strength  and  soundness  of  the  ships. 

Pedro  Fernandes  de  Quiros. 


The  Fury  of  It        o        ^;:iy        's^ 

(From  ih.Q  Journal ;  trans.) 

"^EVER  before  have  I  seen  the  sea  so  high,  so 
horrible,  so  covered  with  foam.  The  wind 
prevented  our  advance,  even  as  far  as  some  shel- 
tering headland,  and  kept  me  out  on  this  sea, 
which  seemed  suffused  with  blood  and  boiled  like 
a  cauldron  on  a  great  fire.  Never  before  had  the 
sky  looked  so  terrible.  Day  and  night  it  blazed 
like  a  furnace,  sending  out  such  streaks  of  fire  that 
every  moment  I  looked  to  see  the  masts  carried 
away.  The  thunderbolts  fell  around  with  such 
inconceivable  fury  that  we  all  thought  the  vessel 
must  be  struck.  All  this  time  the  rain  fell  without 
ceasing :  not  mere  rain  indeed,  but  truly  another 
deluge. 

Chistflpher  Columbus. 


FRANCOIS    RABELAIS  75 

Scylla  and  Charybdis        ^Ci^        <:> 

(From  The  Fifth  Book  of  the  Good  Pautagrtiel ;  trans.) 

'T*HEN  the  gusts  increased,  and  by  fits  blowed 
all  at  once  from  several  quarters :  yet  we 
neither  settled  nor  braded  up  close  our  sails,  but 
only  let  fly  the  sheets,  not  to  go  against  the  master 
of  the  ship's  direction  ;  and  thus  having  let  go 
amain,  lest  we  should  spend  our  topsails,  or  the 
ship's  quick-side  should  lie  in  the  water,  and  she 
be  overset,  we  lay  by  and  run  adrift,  that  is,  in  a 
landloper's  phrase,  we  temporised  it.  For  he 
assured  us,  that,  as  these  gusts  and  whirlwinds 
would  not  do  us  much  good,  so  they  could  not  do 
us  much  harm,  considering  their  easiness  and 
pleasant  strife,  as  also  the  clearness  of  the  sky, 
and  calmness  of  the  current.  So  that  we  were  to 
observe  the  philosopher's  rule,  bear  and  forbear  ; 
that  is,  trim,  or  go  according  to  the  time. 

However,  these  whirlwinds  and  gusts  lasted  so 
long,  that  we  persuaded  the  master  to  let  us  go 
and  lie  at  trie  with  our  main  course  ;  that  is,  to 
haul  the  tack  aboard,  the  sheet  close  aft,  the  bow- 
line set  up,  and  the  helm  tied  close  aboard  ;  so 
after  a  stormy  gale  of  wind,  we  broke  through  the 
whirlwind.  But  'twas  like  falling  into  Scylla  to 
avoid  Charybdis  (out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the 
fire).     For  we  had  not  sailed  a  league,  e'er  our 


76  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

ships  were  stranded  upon  some  sands,  such  as  are 

the  flats  of  St.  Maixant. 

Frangois  Rabelais. 


Collision  between  the  Erebus  and  Terror 

( From  A  Voyage  of  Discovery) 

A  LARGE  berg  was  seen  ahead,  and  quite 
close  to  us  ;  the  ship  was  immediately  hauled 
to  the  wind  on  the  port  tack,  with  the  expectation 
of  being  able  to  weather  it ;  but  just  at  this 
moment  the  Terror  was  observed  running  down 
upon  us,  under  her  topsails  and  foresail ;  and  as 
it  was  impossible  for  her  to  clear  both  the  berg 
and  the  Erebus^  collision  was  inevitable.  We  in- 
stantly hove  all  aback  to  diminish  the  violence  of 
the  shock  ;  but  the  concussion  when  she  struck 
us  was  such  as  to  throw  almost  every  one  off 
his  feet ;  our  bowsprit,  fore-topmast,  and  other 
smaller  spars,  were  carried  away  ;  and  the  ships 
hanging  together,  entangled  by  their  rigging,  and 
dashing  against  each  other  with  fearful  violence, 
were  falling  down  upon  the  weather  face  of  the 
lofty  berg  under  our  lee,  against  which  the  waves 
were  breaking  and  foaming  to  near  the  summit  of 
its  perpendicular  cliffs.  Sometimes  she  rose  high 
above  us,  almost  exposing  her  keel  to  view,  and 
again  descended  as  we  in  our  turn  rose  to  the  top 


SIR   JAMES    ROSS  77 

of  the  wave,  threatening  to  bury  her  beneath  us, 
whilst  the  crashing  of  the  breaking  upperworks 
and  boats  increased  the  horror  of  the  scene.  Pro- 
videntially they  gradually  forged  past  each  other, 
and  separated  before  we  drifted  down  amongst 
the  foaming  breakers,  and  we  had  the  gratifica- 
tion of  seeing  her  clear  the  end  of  the  berg,  and 
of  feeling  that  she  was  safe.  But  she  left  us  com- 
pletely disabled  ;  the  wreck  of  the  spars  so  en- 
cumbered the  lower  yards,  that  we  were  unable 
to  make  sail,  so  as  to  get  headway  on  the  ship  ; 
nor  had  we  room  to  wear  round,  being  by  this 
time  so  close  to  the  berg  that  the  waves,  when 
they  struck  against  it,  threw  back  their  sprays 
into  the  ship.  The  only  way  left  us  to  extricate 
ourselves  from  this  awful  and  appalling  situation 
was  by  resorting  to  the  hazardous  expedient  of  a 
stern-board,  which  nothing  could  justify  during 
such  a  gale  and  with  so  high  a  sea  running,  but 
to  avert  the  danger  which  every  moment  threat- 
ened us  of  being  dashed  to  pieces.  The  heavy 
rolling  of  the  vessel,  and  the  probability  of  the 
masts  giving  way  each  time  the  lower  yard-arms 
struck  against  the  cliffs,  which  were  towering  high 
above  our  mastheads,  rendered  it  a  service  of  ex- 
treme danger  to  loose  the  mainsail  ;  Ijut  no  sooner 
was  the  order  given,  than  the  daring  spirit  of  the 
British  seaman  manifested  itself — the  men  ran  uj) 
the   rigging    with    as    much    alacrity   as    on    any 


78  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

ordinary  occasion  ;  and  although  more  than  once 
driven  off  the  yard,  they  after  a  short  time  suc- 
ceeded in  loosing  the  sail.  Amidst  the  roar  of 
the  wind  and  sea,  it  was  difficult  both  to  hear  and 
to  execute  the  orders  that  were  given,  so  that  it 
was  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  we  could  get 
the  yards  braced  bye,  and  the  maintack  hauled  on 
board  sharp  aback — an  expedient  that  perhaps 
had  never  before  been  resorted  to  by  seamen  in 
such  weather ;  but  it  had  the  desired  effect ;  the 
ship  gathered  stern-way,  plunging  her  stern  into 
the  sea,  washing  away  the  gig  and  quarter  boats, 
and  with  her  lower  yardarms  scraping  the  rugged 
face  of  the  berg,  we  in  a  few  minutes  reached  its 
western  termination  ;  the  "under  tow,"  as  it  is 
called,  or  the  reaction  of  the  water  from  its  vertical 
cliffs,  alone  preventing  us  being  driven  to  atoms 
against  it. 

Sir  James  Ross. 


A  Landsman  in  a  Storm        -s^y        -<:> 

(From  A  Narrative  of  a  Voyage  Round  the  World ;  trans.) 

At  Sea,  ill  latitude  4°  North. 

A     GRAY   cloud,    the    forerunner    of   a    storm, 

appears    on    the    horizon  ;    it    rises    rapidly, 

charged  with  hail,  spreads  itself  out  afar,  covers 

great  part  of  the  sky,  darkens  the  atmosphere,  and 


J.    ARAGO  79 

diffuses  a  sulphureous  smell.  A  dull,  hollow  roar- 
ing soon  announces  to  the  attentive  mariner  the 
impending  danger.  .  .  .  The  merry  songs  have 
ceased,  and  are  succeeded  by  an  alarming  silence. 
The  danger  is  measured  with  a  glance.  The  cap- 
tain speaks  ;  the  men  fly  to  obey  his  orders.  The 
furled  sails  no  longer  catch  the  wind,  which  roars 
and  howls  among  the  rigging  :  the  ship  gradually 
yields  to  the  rapid  motion  of  the  billows.  Perched 
on  the  tops  of  the  masts,  and  at  the  extremities  of 
the  yards,  the  sailors  display  redoubled  boldness. 
An  order  is  scarcely  given  before  it  is  executed. 
They  are  no  longer  those  faint-hearted  cowards, 
described  by  barbarous  historians  as  trembling  at 
the  approach  of  danger  ;  they  are,  on  the  con- 
trary, intrepid  mariners,  whom  the  combined 
elements  are  incapable  of  appalling.  Whether 
touching  the  clouds,  or  at  the  bottom  of  the  abyss, 
they  are  constantly  the  same  ;  and  they  care  as 
little  for  the  thunderbolt  as  for  the  sunken  rock. 
But  the  uproar  increases  ;  the  cloud  hovers  over 
the  vessel ;  wave  dashes  against  wave  ;  lightnings 
rend  the  cloud  ;  from  its  murky  sides  burst  tor- 
rents of  wind  and  hail.  The  ship  is  carried  away. 
The  rajjidity  of  its  motions  prevents  any  attempt 
to  counteract  them  ;  and  llic  profoundest  darkness 
would  render  such  an  attempt  useless.  The  roar- 
ing of  the  waves,  the  pealing  of  the  thunder,  the 
howling  of  the  cordage,  the  cracking  of  the  tackle. 


8o  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

drown  the  voice  :  none  is  heard  save  that  of  the 
tempest. 

But  the  wind  subsides  ;  light  returns  ;  the  thun- 
der rolls  at  a  distance ;  the  ear  calmly  follows  its 
reverberations ;  the  seaman  with  weary  hand  points 
to  the  flashing  lightning,  now  too  distant  to  alarm 
him  ;  he  forgets  in  a  trice  the  dangers  he  has  just 
escaped,  and  seems  by  his  renewed  songs  to  pro- 
voke fresh  perils. 

I  know  not,  my  friend,  whether  I  have  given 
you  a  faint  idea  of  a  storm  which  overtook  us  to- 
day in  the  fourth  degree  of  north  latitude.  Ah  1 
what  a  delightful  picture  of  Paris  could  I  have 
drawn  for  you  !     Our  gentry,  however,  say  that  it 

was  only  a  squall. 

J.  Arago. 

Helplessness  of  the  Ship        -o        -<=:i^ 

(From  Pccheur  d'Ishinde) 

■pLLE  fuyait  devant  le  temps,  la  Marie,  fuyait 
toujours  plus  vite  ;  et  le  temps  fuyait  aussi — 
devant  je  ne  sais  quoi  de  mystdrieux  et  de  terrible. 
La  brise,  la  mer,  la  Marie,  les  nuages,  tout  dtait 
pris  d'un  mcme  affolement  de  fuite  et  de  vitesse 
dans  le  meme  sens.  Ce  qui  detalait  le  plus  vite 
c'dtait  le  vent,  puis  les  grosses  levdes  de  houle,  plus 
lourdes,  plus  lentes,  courant  apres  lui ;  puis  la 
Marie  entrainde  dans  ce  mouvement  de  tout.     Les 


PIERRE   LOTI  8 1 

lames  la  poursuivaient,  avec  leurs  cretes  blemes 
qui  se  roulaient  dans  une  perpdtuelle  chute,  at 
elle, — toujours  rattrapde,  toujours  ddpassde, — leur 
dchappait  tout  de  meme,  au  moyen  d'un  sillage 
liabile  qu'elle  se  faisait  derriere,  d'un  remous  ou 
leur  fureur  se  brisait. 

Et  dans  cette  allure  de  fuite,  ce  qu'on  dprouvait 
surtout,  c'dtait  une  illusion  de  Idg^retd ;  sans  aucune 
peine  ni  effort,  on  se  sentait  bondir.  Quand  la 
Marie  montait  sur  cos  lames,  c'dtait  sans  secousse, 
comme  si  le  vent  I'eut  enlevde ;  et  sa  redescente 
apres  clait  comme  une  glissade,  faisant  dprouver 
ce  tressaillement  du  ventre  qu'on  a  dans  les 
chutes  simuldes  des  "chars  russes"  ou  dans  celles 
imaginaires  des  rcves.  Elle  glissait  comme  h. 
reculons,  la  montagnc  fuyanle  se  ddrobant  sous 
elle  pour  continuer  de  courir,  et  alors  elle  dtait 
replongde  dans  un  de  ces  grands  crcux  qui 
couraient  aussi  ;  sans  se  meurtrir,  elle  en  touchait 
le  fond  horrible,  dans  un  dclaboussement  d'eau  qui 
ne  la  mouillait  mcmc  pas,  mais  qui  fuyait  comme 
tout  le  reste  ;  qui  fuyait  et  s'dvanouissait  en  avant 
comme  de  la  fumde,  comme  rien.  .  .   . 

Au  fond  de  ces  creux,  il  faisait  plus  noir,  et 
aprcs  chaque  lame  passde,  on  rcgardait  derriere 
soi  arriver  I'autre  ;  I'autre  encore  plus  grande,  qui 
se  dressait  toute  verte  par  transparence  ;  qui  se 
ddpcchait  d'approchcr,  avec  des  contournenienls 
G 


82  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

furieux,  des  volutes  pictes  k  se  renfermer,  un  air  de 
dire :  "Attends  que  je  t'attrape,  et  je  t'engouffre. . . ." 

Pierre  Loti. 

An  Emigrant  Ship  in  Bad  Weather        ^;> 

(From  Blau  Wasser) 

"piN  eigenthiimlich  schrillcr  Laut  pfiff  da  iiber 
die  See  und  das  Scliiff  neigte  sich  so  plotzlich 
und  scharf  nach  Lee  hiniiber,  dass,  war  nicht  fast 
stand,  zur  Seite  rutschte  und  rollte  und  alias  an 
Deck  stehende  lockere  Geschirr  und  Geriith  pol- 
ternd  nach  Larbord  iiber  kollerte. 

"  Steht  bei  dan  Fallen  1  Los  mit  den  Bram- 
fallan,  um  Euer  Laben,  los  mit  den  Marsen ! " 
schrie  in  diesem  Augenblick  die  Stimme  des 
Kapitans  gellend  iiber  Deck.  Die  Matrosen 
sprangen  arschreckt  harbei,  abar  sie  selber  batten 
Noth,  sich  im  ersten  Augenblick  der  Uabarras- 
chung  fastzuklammarn  und  nicht  ebenfalls  nach 
Lee  zu  geworfen  zu  werden,  und  ehe  sie  nur  die 
Falle,  an  denen  die  oberen  Raaen  befestigt  waren, 
erreichen  und,  wie  der  Befehl  lautete,  abwerfen 
konnten,  brach  es  und  knatterte  es  oben  in  den 
Stangen  und  kam,  untar  dem  Heulen  der  plotz- 
lich aufgasprungenen  Bo,  rasselnd  an  Deck  niedar, 
zwischen  die  angstlich  aufschraienden  Passagiere 
hinein. 


FRIEDRICH    GERSTAECK.ER  83 

Noch  standen  die  unteren  Masten,  und  durch 
die  niedergeschmetterten  Stengcn  hatte  der  so 
plotzlich  herangebrauste  Sturm  wenigstens  seine 
grosste  Macht  auf  das  Schiff  verloren,  das  sich 
langsam  wiedcr  aufrichtete.  Aber  die  Kaptaube 
trieb  auch,  ein  halbes  Wrack,  auf  den  Wellen,  und 
unter  dem  Flatten!  der  Segel,  da  der  Mann  am 
Steuer  in  plotzlichem  Schreck  das  Schiff  gerade  in 
den  Wind  hinein  gedreht  hatte,  dass  es  nicht  den 
mindcsten  Fortgang  mehr  durch's  Wasser  machte, 
sprangcn  die  Matrosen  jetzt  an  ihre  Platze,  losten 
die  Schoten  des  grossen  Segels  und  der  Fock, 
licssen  die  Cliivcr  nieder — der  Cliiverbaum  war 
ebenfalls  abgebrochen — und  warfcn  das  Besan- 
segcl  los. 

In  furchtbarer  Schnelle  hatte  sich  indessen  die 
im  Westen  aufgekommene  Wand  gehoben  ;  von 
der  Windsbraut  getragcn  kam  sie  herauf,  und  wie 
die  Leutc  nah  dabci  waren,  das  indessen  wieder 
seinem  Steuer  gehorchendc  Schiff  von  allem  frei 
zu  kappcn,  was  darum  herhing;  an  Deck  zu  ziehen 
was  zu  retten  war,  und  das  Ucbrige  iiber  Bord  zu 
schneiden,  kam  ein  fluthendcr  Regen  wolken- 
bruchartig  niedergcstnimt,  sammeUc  sich  an  Deck 
und  schiug,  da  er  so  rasch  gar  nicht  durch  die 
jetzt  noch  iiberdics  niit  Segel  und  Tauwerk  ver- 
stopftcn  Speygatcn  ablaufen  konnle,  in  die  noch 
oflfencn  Luken  hinein. 


84  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

Die  Passagiere  hatten  den  ersten  Anprall  des 
Sturmes  mit  dumpfem,  starrem  Schweigen  hinge- 
nommen.  So  plotzlich  war  das  Unwetter  aus 
volkommen  heiterer  Luft  iiber  sic  hereingebrochen, 
so  wild  und  toll  schlugen  ihnen  die  Stengen  und 
Segel  dazu  um  die  Kopfe,  dass  sie  die  Grosse  des 
Unfalls  iiicht  einmal  gleich  begriffen.  Nur  die 
Frauen  bemachtigtcn  sich  instinctartig  zuerst  der 
Kinder,  diese  vor  dem  fallenden  Holzern,  wenn  es 
sein  musste,  mit  den  eigenen  Korpern  zu  decken, 
gewannen  aber  auch  zuerst  ihre  Stimmen  wieder 
und  schrien  und  wehklagten  jetzc  in  das  Heulen 
und  Brausen  der  Elemente  hinein. 

Hatten  die  Seeleute  iibrigens  die  Passagiere,  die 
ihnen  mehr  als  je  uberall  im  Wege  waren,  noch 
bis  jetzt  unbelastigt  an  Deck  gelassen,  so  war  das 
die  alleinige  Ursache  gewesen,  dass  sie  auch  noch 
nicht  einen  Augenblick  Zeit  bekommen,  sich  mit 
ihnen  zu  beschaftigen.  Jetzt  aber,  wo  der  nieder- 
stromende,  Rcgen  seine  Fluth  selbst  auch  in  die 
noch  offenen  Luken  des  Zwischendecks  ergoss, 
und  die  darunter  liegende  Fracht  zu  beschadigen 
drohte,  anderte  sich  die  Sache,  und  die  Passagiere 
wurden  beordert  nicder  zu  klettern,  damit  die 
Luken  geschlossen  werden  konnten. 

Unter  dem  Schreicn  und  Jammern  der  Frauen 
und   Kinder  und  dem  Fluchen  der  Manner,  die 


MICHAEL  SCOTT  85 

sich  grosstentheils  nur  ungern  dem  Befehle  fiigten, 
wurde  das  endlich  bewerkstelligt,  und  die  iiberge- 
hobenen  Luken  deckten  wenige  Minuten  spiiter 
den  unteren,  dunklen,  dumpfigen  Raum  des 
Zwischendccks  mit  Nacht  und  Schweigen.  Die 
Mannschaft  an  Deck  bekam  freien  Raum,  das 
zerrisseneTakelwerk,  wie  die  zersplitterten  Masten, 
so  viel  als  moglich  in  Ordnung  zu  bringen,  das 
Schiff  wenigstens  regieren  zu  konnen,  und  als  das 
geschehen  war,  iinderte  der  Kapitiin  ihrcn  Cours. 
Mit  den  wenigen  noch  moglichen  Segeln  konnten 
sie  sich  aber  nur  langsam  durch  die  rasch  erregte 
Fluth  fortbewegen,  und  das  Sicherste  fiir  sie  war, 
nach  Norden  hinauf  zu  laufen,  urn  mit  Hulfe  der 
Leuchtthiirme  einen  schiitzenden  Hafen  zu  errei- 
chen,  wo  der  erlittene  Schadcn  wieder  ordcntlich 
reparirt  werden  konnte.  Mit  dem  Wrack  durfte  er 
nicht  wagen,  seine  Reisc  durch  den  atlantischen 
Ocean  fortzusetzen. 

Fricdrich  Gersiaecker, 


The  Breaking  Wave        <:i.        'Qy        <cy 

(From  The  Cruise  of  the  **  Muli^c") 

'T*HE  weather  was  indeed  getting  rapidly  worse  ; 
the  screaming  sea-birds  flew  in  like  drifts  of 
snow,  scarcely  distinguishable  from  the  driving 
foamflakcs ;  the  scud  came  i)ast  in  soaking  wreaths 
like  flashes  of  white  vapour  from  the  safety-valve 


86  THE    CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

of  a  steam-boiler.  Suddenly  the  wind  fell  to  a 
dead  calm  ;  not  a  breath  fanned  us  ;  not  a  leaf 
stirred  ;  the  rain-drops  glittered  on  the  pale-green 
velvet  of  the  ragged  and  ever-twittering  but  now 
motionless  leaves  of  the  plantain,  like  silver 
globules  frozen  there  ;  the  reports  of  the  guns 
grew  sharper  in  the  lull,  the  cries  shriller,  and  the 
general  tumult  and  uproar  of  the  conflict  swelled 
fearfully ;  while  the  white  smoke  rose  up,  shrouding 
the  vessels  and  entire  cove  from  my  sight. 

The  clouds  above  us,  surcharged  with  fire  and 
water,  formed  a  leaden-coloured  arch  over  the 
entrance  to  the  cove  that  spanned  the  uproar 
of  dark  white-crested  waves,  boiling  and  rolling  in 
smoky  wreaths  and  lancing  out  ragged  shreds  from 
their  lower  edges,  that  shot  down  and  shortened 
like  a  fringe  of  streamers,  from  which  the  forked 
lightning  "  crankled  "  out  every  now  and  then  clear 
and  bright. 

A  column  of  dense  black  smoke,  thickly  starred 
with  red  sparks,  now  boiled  up  past  the  edge  of 
the  cliff  under  me  ;  presently  it  became  streaked 
with  tongues  of  bright  hissing  flame,  which  ran  up 
the  rigging,  diverging  along  every  rope  as  if  it  had 
been  a  galvanic  wire,  twisting  serpent-like  round 
the  Moscds  masts  and  higher  spars,  and  licking 
the  wet  furled  sails  like  boa-constrictors  fitting  their 
prey  to  be  devoured.  See  how  the  fire  insinuates 
itself  into  the  dry  creases  of  the  canvas,  driving 


MICHAEL   SCOTT  87 

out  the  moisture  from  the  massive  folds  in  white 
steam  ;  now  the  sails  catch  in  earnest— they  drop 
in  glowing  flakes  of  tinder  from  the  yards— there 
the  blue  -  and  -  white  pennant  and  ensign  are 
scorched  away,  and  blown  off  in  tiny  flashes ; 
while  in  the  lulls  of  the  gale  we  distinctly  hear  the 
roaring  and  crackling  of  the  fire  as  it  rages  in  the 
hull  of  the  doomed  vessel  below. 

"  I  say,  Quacco,  mind  we  don't  get  a  hoist,  my 
man— see  we  be  not  too  near— there  !  Don't  you 
hear  how  the  guns  go  off  as  the  metal  gets  heated, 
for  there  is  not  a  soul  on  board  ? " 

It  never  rains  but  it  pours.  "  Hark  !  An  earth- 
quake ! "  And  as  if  a  volcano  had  burst  forth 
beneath  our  feet,  at  this  instant  of  time  the  pirate 
schooner  under  the  cliff  blew  up  with  an  explosion 
that  shook  earth,  air,  and  water— shooting  the 
pieces  of  burning  wreck  in  every  direction,  that 
hissed  like  meteors  through  the  storm,  and  fell 
thickly  all  around  us. 

"  The  Midge  !  the  Midge  !  she  slides  out  of  the 
smoke  I     See  I     She  gains  the  offing  !  " 

But  the  avenger  of  blood  is  behind  ;  for  the 
Spider  had  now  cleared  the  harbour's  mouth  and 
was  in  hot  pursuit.  The  felucca  with  her  sails— a 
whole  constellation  of  shot-holes  in  them— double- 
reefed,  tearing  and  plunging  through  it ;  her  sharp 
stem  flashing  up  the  water  into  smoke  in  a  vain 
attempt  to  weather  the  sandy  point. 


88  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

"  Won't  do,  my  boy  !  You  cannot,  carry  to  it  as 
you  will,  clear  the  land  as  you  are  standing  ;  you 
must  tack  soon,  unless  you  mean  to  jump  the  little 
beauty  over  it."  As  I  spoke  she  hove  about  and 
stood  across  the  schooner,  exchanging  broadsides 
gallantly.  "  Well  done,  little  one  ! "  The  Spider 
tacked  also  and  stood  after  her.  A  gun  ! 
Another!  Both  replied  to  by  the  felucca,  the 
musketry  peppering  away  all  the  while  from  each 
essel ;  the  tiny  white  puffs  instantly  obliterated 
y  the  foam-drift ;  and  now  neither  fired  a  shot. 
The  gale  at  this  moment  came  down  in  thunder; 
all  above  as  black  as  night,  all  below  as  white  as 
wool.  The  Spider  shortens  sail  just  in  time  ;  the 
Midge  not  a  pistol  shot  ahead  on  the  weather  bow. 
See  !  the  squall  strikes  her — her  tall  lateen  sail 
shines  through  the  more  than  twilight  darkness 
and  the  driving  rain  and  spray,  like  a  sea-bird's 
wing.  Mercy  !  how  she  lies  over  1  She  sinks  in 
the  trough  of  the  sea  !  Now  she  rises  again  and 
breasts  it  gallantly !  There !  that's  over  her 
bodily ;  her  sails  are  dark  and  sea-washed  three- 
parts  up.  Look  how  the  clear  green  water,  as  she 
lurches,  pours  out  of  the  afterleech  of  the  sail  like 
a  cascade !  Now  she  is  buried  again  ;  no — 
buoyant  as  a  cork,  she  dances  over  it  like  a  wild 
duck !  See  how  she  tips  up  her  round  stern  and 
slides  down  the  liquid  hollow  !  Once  more  she 
catches  the  breeze  on  the  opposite  rise  of  the  sea. 


F.    T.    BULLEN  89 

her  sails  tearing  her  along  up  the  watery  acclivity 
as  if  they  would  drag  the  spars  out  of  her.  Now 
she  rushes  on  the  curl  of  the  wave,  with  her  bows 
and  a  third  of  her  keel  hove  out  into  the  air,  as  if 
she  were  going  to  shoot  across  like  a  flying-fish 
into  the  swelling  bosom  of  the  next  sea.  Once 
more  she  is  hove  on  her  beam-ends  and  hid  by  an 
intervening  billow.  Ha  !  what  a  blinding  flash,  as 
the  blue  forked  lightning  glances  from  sky  to  sea 
right  over  where  I  saw  her  last !  Hark  !  the  split- 
ting crash  and  stunning  reverberations  of  the 
shaking  thunder,  rolling  through  the  empyrean 
loud  as  an  archangel's  voice,  until  earth  and  air 
tremble  again.  She  rights — she  rights  I  There  I 
the  narrow  shred  of  white  canvas  gleams  again 
through  the  mist  in  the  very  fiercest  of  the  squall 
— yes,  there  I     No  1     God  of  my  fathers  ! 

IT   IS   BUT  A   BREAKING   WAVE  I 

Michael  Scott. 


Responsibility  of  the  Helmsman        ■<::iy 

(From  The  Cruise  of  the  ^^  Cachalot") 

"VT'OU  are  running  before  the  wind  and  waves, 
sometimes  deep  in  the  valley  between  two 
liquid  mountains,  sometimes  high  on  the  rolling 
ridge  of  one.  You  watch  anxiously  the  speed  of 
the  sea,  trying  to  decide  whether  it  or  you  are 


90  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

going  the  faster,  when  suddenly  there  seems  to  be 
a  hush,  almost  a  lull,  in  the  uproar.  You  look 
astern  and  see  a  wall  of  water  rising  majestically 
higher  and  higher,  at  the  same  time  drawing 
nearer  and  nearer.  Instinctively  you  clutch  at 
something  firm  and  hold  your  breath.  Then 
that  mighty  green  barrier  leans  forward,  the  ship's 
stern  seems  to  settle  at  the  same  time,  and,  with  a 
thundering  noise  as  of  an  avalanche  descending,  it 
overwhelms  you.  Of  course,  the  ship's  way  is 
deadened  ;  she  seems  like  a  living  thing  over- 
burdened, yet  struggling  to  be  free  ;  and  well  it  is 
for  all  hands  if  the  helmsman  be  able  to  keep  his 
post  and  his  wits  about  him.  For  if  he  be  hurt,  or 
have  fled  from  the  terrible  wave,  it  is  an  even 
chance  that  she  "broaches  to,"  that  is  to  say, 
swings  round  broadside  on  to  the  next  great  wave 
that  follows  relentlessly  its  predecessor.  Then, 
helpless  and  vulnerable,  she  will  most  probably  be 
smashed  up  and  founder.  Many  a  good  ship  has 
gone  with  all  hands  to  the  bottom  just  as  simply 
as  that.  p  -p  Bidlen. 

The  Fleet  In  a  Squall        ■*;:>        -'^ 

(From  Roderick  Random) 

■\"\  rE  got  out  of  the  channel  with  a  prosperous 

breeze,  which  died  away,  leaving  us  becalmed 

about  fifty  leagues  to  the  westward  of  the  Lizard  ; 


TOBIAS   SMOLLETT  9 1 

but  this  state  of  inaction  did  not  last  long,  for  next 
night  our  maintop-sail  was  split  by  the  wind,  which, 
in  the  morning,  increased  to  a  hurricane.  I  was 
awakened  by  a  most  horrible  din,  occasioned  by 
the  play  of  the  gun-carriages  upon  the  decks 
above,  the  cracking  of  cabins,  the  howling  of  the 
wind  through  the  shrouds,  the  confused  noise  of 
the  ship's  crew,  the  pipes  of  the  boatswain  and  his 
mate,  the  trumpets  of  the  lieutenants,  and  the 
clanking  of  the  chain  pumps.  Morgan,  who  had 
never  been  at  sea  before,  turned  out  in  a  great 
hurry,  crying,  "  Cot  have  mercy  and  compassion 
upon  us  !  I  believe  we  have  cot  upon  the  confines 
of  Lucifer  and  the  d — n'd  !  "  while  poor  Thompson 
lay  quaking  in  his  hammock,  putting  up  petitions 
to  heaven  for  our  safety.  I  rose  and  joined  the 
Welshman,  with  whom  (after  having  fortified  our- 
selves with  brandy)  I  went  above  ;  but  if  my  sense 
of  hearing  was  startled  before,  how  must  my  sight 
have  been  appalled  in  beholding  the  effects  of  the 
storm  !  The  sea  was  swelled  into  billows  moun- 
tain high,  on  the  top  of  which  our  ship  sometimes 
hung  as  if  it  were  about  to  be  precipitated  to  the 
abyss  below  I  Sometimes  we  sank  between  two 
waves  that  rose  on  each  side  higher  than  our  top- 
mast-head, and  threatened  by  dashing  together  to 
overwhelm  us  in  a  moment !  Of  all  our  fleet,  con- 
sisting of  a  hundred  and  fifty  sail,  scarce  twelve 
appeared,  and  these  driving  under  their  bare  poles, 


92  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

at  the  mercy  of  the  tempest.  At  length  the  mast 
of  one  of  them  gave  way,  and  tumbled  overboard 
with  a  hideous  crash  !  Nor  was  the  prospect  in 
our  own  ship  much  more  agreeable  :  a  number  of 
officers  and  sailors  ran  backward  and  forward  with 
distraction  in  their  looks,  halloaing  to  one  another, 
and  undetermined  what  they  should  attend  to  first. 
Some  clung  to  the  yards,  endeavouring  to  unbend 
the  sails  that  were  split  into  a  thousand  pieces 
flapping  in  the  wind  ;  others  tried  to  furl  those 
which  were  yet  whole,  while  the  masts,  at  every 
pitch,  bent  and  quivered  like  twigs,  as  if  they 
would  have  shivered  into  innumerable  splinters  I 

Tobias  SfnoUett. 
The  Slave  Ship        ■^o        '^^i^        ^^ 

(From  Modern  Painters) 

"OUT  I  think  the  noblest  sea  that  Turner  has  ever 
painted,  and,  if  so,  the  noblest  certainly  ever 
painted  by  man,  is  that  of  the  Slave  Ship,  the  chief 
Academy  picture  of  the  Exhibition  of  1840.  It  is  a 
sunset  on  the  Atlantic,  after  prolonged  storm  ;  but 
the  storm  is  partially  lulled,  and  the  torn  and  stream- 
ing rain-clouds  are  moving  in  scarlet  lines  to  lose 
themselves  in  the  hollow  of  the  night.  The  whole 
surface  of  the  sea  included  in  the  picture  is  divided 
into  two  ridges  of  enormous  swell,  not  high,  nor 
local,  but  a  low  broad  heaving  of  the  whole  ocean, 


JOHN    RUSKIN  93 

like  the  lifting  of  its  bosom  by  deep-drawn  breath 
after  the  torture  of  the  storm.  Between  these  two 
ridges  the  fire  of  the  sunset  falls  along  the  trough 
of  the  sea,  dyeing  it  with  an  awful  but  glorious 
light,  the  intense  and  lurid  splendour  of  which 
burns  like  gold,  and  bathes  like  blood.  Along  this 
fiery  path  and  valley,  the  tossing  waves,  by  which 
the  swell  of  the  sea  is  restlessly  divided,  lift  them- 
selves in  dark,  indefinite,  fantastic  forms,  each 
casting  a  faint  and  ghastly  shadow  behind  it  along 
the  illumined  foam.  They  do  not  rise  everywhere, 
but  three  or  four  together  in  wild  groups,  fitfully 
and  furiously,  as  the  under  strength  of  the  swell 
compels  or  permits  them,  leaving  between  them 
treacherous  spaces  of  level  and  whirling  water, 
now  lighted  with  green  and  lamp-like  fire,  now 
flashing  back  the  gold  of  the  declining  sun,  now 
fearfully  dyed  from  above  with  the  undistinguish- 
able  images  of  the  burning  clouds,  which  fall  upon 
them  in  flakes  of  crimson  and  scarlet,  and  give  to 
the  reckless  waves  the  added  motion  of  their  own 
fiery  flying.  Purple  and  blue,  the  lurid  shadows 
of  the  hollow  breakers  are  cast  upon  the  mist  of 
night,  which  gathers  cold  and  low,  advancing  like 
the  shadow  of  death  upon  the  guilty  ship  as  it 
labours  amidst  the  lightning  of  the  sea,  its  thin 
masts  written  upon  the  sky  in  lines  of  blood, 
girded  with  condemnation  in  that  fearful  hue 
which  signs  the  sky  with  horror,  and  mixes  its 


94  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

flaring  flood  with  the  sunlight,  and,  cast  far  along 
the  desolate  heave  of  the  sepulchral  waves,  incarna- 
dines the  multitudinous  sea. 

John  Ruskin. 


Lightning  at  Sea        -<;:>        -^i^        ^:> 

(From  Mr.  Midshipman  Easy) 

A  ND  the  Aurora  flew  before  the  gale,  under 
her  foresail  and  topsails  close  reefed.  The 
weather  was  now  so  thick  that  nothing  could  be 
observed  twenty  yards  from  the  vessels  ;  the 
thunder  peeled,  and  the  lightning  darted  in  every 
direction  over  the  dark  expanse.  The  watch  was 
called  as  soon  as  the  sails  were  trimmed,  and  all 
who  could  went  below,  wet,  uncomfortable,  and 
disappointed.  .  .  . 

At  this  moment  a  tremendous  noise  was  heard 
above,  a  shock  was  felt  throughout  the  whole  ship, 
which  trembled  fore  and  aft  as  if  it  was  about  to 
fall  into  pieces ;  loud  shrieks  were  followed  by 
plaintive  cries,  the  lower  deck  was  filled  with 
smoke,  and  the  frigate  was  down  on  her  beam- 
ends.  Without  exchanging  a  word,  the  whole  of 
the  occupants  of  the  berth  flew  out,  and  were  up 
the  hatchway,  not  knowing  what  to  think,  but  con- 
vinced that  some  dreadful  accident  had  taken 
place. 

On  their  gaining  the  deck,  it  was  at  once  ex- 


VV.    CLARK    RUSSELL  95 

plained  ;  the  foremast  of  the  frigate  had  been 
struck  by  hy^htning,  had  been  riven  into  several 
pieces,  and  had  fallen  over  the  larboard  bow, 
carrying  with  it  the  main  topmast  and  jib-boom. 
The  jagged  stump  of  the  foremast  was  in  flames, 
and  burnt  brightly,  notwithstanding  the  rain  fell 
in  torrents.  The  ship,  as  soon  as  the  foremast 
and  main  topmast  had  gone  overboard,  broached- 
to  furiously,  throwing  the  men  over  the  wheel  and 
dashing  them  senseless  against  the  carronadcs  ; 
the  forecastle,  the  forepart  of  the  main  deck,  and 
even  the  lower  deck,  were  spread  with  men,  either 
killed  or  seriously  wounded,  or  insensible  from  the 
electric  shock.  The  frigate  was  on  her  beam-ends, 
and  the  sea  broke  furiously  over  her  ;  all  was  dark 
as  pitch,  except  the  light  from  the  blazing  stump  of 
the  foremast,  appearing  like  a  torch,  held  up  by  the 
wild  demons  of  the  storm,  or  when  occasionally 
the  gleaming  lightning  cast  a  momentary  glare, 
threatening  every  moment  to  repeat  its  attack 
upon  the  vessel,  while  the  deafening  thunder  burst 
almost  on  their  devoted  heads. 

Captain  F,  Marryat. 

(From  The  Wreck  pJ  the  "  Grosvcuor") 

T  LEFT  the  wheel  for  a  second  or  two  to  close 

one  of  the  skylights,  and,  as  I  did  so,  a  flash  of 

lightning  seemed  to  set  the  ship  on  fire,  and  imme- 


96  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

diately  came  a  deafening  crash  of  thunder.  I  think 
there  is  something  more  awful  in  the  roar  of 
thunder  heard  at  sea  than  on  shore,  unless  you  are 
among  mountains  ;  you  get  the  full  intensity  of  it, 
the  mighty  outburst  smiting  the  smooth  surface  of 
the  water,  which  in  itself  is  a  wonderful  vehicle 
of  sound,  and  running  onwards  for  leagues  with- 
out meeting  with  any  impedimenta  to  check  or 
divert  it. 

I  hastened  to  see  if  the  lightning  conductor  ran 
clear  to  the  water,  and,  finding  the  end  of  the  wire 
coiled  up  in  the  port  main-chains,  flung  it  over- 
board and  resumed  my  place  at  the  wheel. 

Now  that  the  vast  surface  of  cloud  was  well  for- 
ward of  overhead,  I  observed  that  its  front  was  an 
almost  perfect  semicircle,  the  extremities  at  either 
point  of  the  horizon  projecting  like  horns.  There 
still  remained,  embraced  by  these  horns,  a  clear 
expanse  of  steel-coloured  sky.  There  the  sea  was 
light,  but  all  to  starboard  it  was  black,  and  the 
terrible  shadow  was  fast  bearing  down  upon  the 
ship. 

Crack  I  the  lightning  whizzed  and  turned  the 
deck,  spars  and  rigging  into  a  network  of  blue 
fire.  The  peal  that  followed  was  a  sudden  explo- 
sion— a  great  dead  crash,  as  though  some  mighty 
ponderous  orb  had  fallen  from  the  highest  heaven 
upon  the  flooring  of  the  sky  and  riven  it. 


W.    CLARK    RUSSELL  97 

Then  1  heard  the  rain. 

I  scarcely  know  which  was  the  more  terrifying 
to  see  and  hear — the  rain,  or  the  thunder  and 
lightning. 

It  was  a  cataract  of  water  falling  from  a  pro- 
digious elevation.  It  was  a  dense,  impervious 
Mquid  veil,  shutting  out  all  sight  of  sea  and  sky. 
It  tore  the  water  into  foam  in  striking  it. 

Then,  boom!  down  it  came  upon  us. 

I  held  on  by  the  wheel,  and  the  boatswain 
jammed  himself  under  the  grating.  It  was  not 
rain  only — it  was  hail  as  big  as  eggs  ;  and  the 
rain-drops  were  as  big  as  eggs  too. 

There  was  not  a  breath  of  air.  This  terrific  fall 
came  down  in  perfectly  perpendicular  lines  ;  and 
as  the  lightning  rushed  through  it,  it  illuminated 
with  its  ghastly  effulgence  a  broad  sheet  of  water. 

It  was  so  dark  that  I  could  not  see  the  card  in 
the  binnacle. 

The  water  rushed  off  our  decks  just  as  it  would 
had  we  shipped  a  sea.  And  for  the  space  of 
twenty  minutes  I  stood  stunned,  deaf,  blind,  in  the 
midst  of  a  horrible  and  overpowering  concert  of 
pealing  thunder  and  rushing  rain,  the  awful  j^looni 
being  rendered  yet  more  dreadful  by  the  dazzling 
flashes  which  passed  through  it. 

\V.  Clark  Russell. 


98  THE   CALL   OF    THE   SEA 

The  Height  of  the  Storm        <iy         'Qy 

(From  Miles  IValliiigfonl) 

'X'HE  seas  seemed  crushed  ;  the  pressure  of  the 
swooping  atmosphere,  as  the  currents  of  the 
air  went  howhng  over  the  surface  of  the  ocean, 
fairly  prevented  them  from  rising  ;  or  where  a 
mound  of  water  did  appear,  it  was  scooped  up  and 
borne  off  in  spray,  as  the  axe  dubs  inequaHties 
from  the  log.  When  the  day  returned,  a  species 
of  lurid  sombre  light  was  diffused  over  the  watery 
waste,  though  nothing  was  visible  but  the  ocean 
and  the  ship.  Even  the  sea-birds  seemed  to  have 
taken  refuge  in  the  caverns  of  the  adjacent  coast, 
none  reappearing  with  the  dawn. 

Fenimore  Cooper. 

Greeks  in  a  Storm        'O^        -o        '^c^ 

(From  Eothen) 

A 1 /■£  were  nearing  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  when  there 
arose  half  a  gale  of  wind,  with  a  heavy  chop- 
ping sea.  My  Greek  seamen  considered  that  the 
weather  amounted,  not  to  a  half,  but  to  an  integral 
gale  of  wind  at  the  very  least  ;  so  they  put  up  the 
helm,  and  scudded  for  twenty  hours.  When  we 
neared  the  mainland  of  Anadoli  the  gale  ceased, 
and  a  favourable  breeze,  springing  up,  soon  brought 


A.    W.    KINGLAKE  99 

US  off  Cyprus  once  more.  Afterwards  the  wind 
changed  again,  but  we  were  still  able  to  lay  our 
course  by  sailing  close-hauled. 

We  were  at  length  in  such  a  position,  that  by 
holding  on  our  course  for  about  half  an  hour  we 
should  get  under  the  lee  of  the  island,  and  find 
ourselves  in  smooth  water,  but  the  wind  had  been 
gradually  freshening  ;  it  now  blew  hard,  and  there 
was  a  heavy  sea  running. 

As  the  grounds  for  alarm  rose,  the  crew  gathered 
together  in  one  close  group ;  they  stood  pale  and 
grim  under  their  hooded  capotes  like  monks  await- 
ing a  massacre,  anxiously  looking  by  turns  along 
the  pathway  of  the  storm,  and  then  upon  each 
other,  and  then  upon  the  eye  of  the  Captain,  who 
stood  by  the  helmsman.  Presently  the  Hydriot 
came  aft,  more  moody  than  ever,  the  bearer  of 
fierce  remonstrance  against  the  continuing  of  the 
struggle  ;  he  received  a  resolute  answer,  and  still 
we  held  our  course.  Soon  there  came  a  heavy  sea 
that  caught  the  bow  of  the  briganline  as  she  lay 
jammed  in  betwixt  the  waves ;  she  bowed  her  head 
low  under  the  waters,  and  shuddered  through  all 
her  timbers,  then  gallantly  stood  up  again  over  the 
striving  sea  with  bowsprit  entire.  But  where  were 
the  crew?  It  was  a  crew  no  longer,  but  rather  a 
gathering  of  Greek  citizens; — the  shout  of  the  sea- 
men was  changed  for  the  murmuring  of  the  people — 
the  spirit  of  the  old  Demos  was  alive.     The  men 


too  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

came  aft  in  a  body,  and  loudly  asked  that  the 
vessel  should  be  put  about,  and  that  the  storm  be 
no  longer  tempted.  Now,  then,  for  speeches : 
the  Captain,  his  eyes  flashing  fire,  his  frame  all 
quivering  with  emotion — wielding  his  every  limb, 
like  another  and  a  louder  voice — pours  forth  the 
eloquent  torrent  of  his  threats,  and  his  reasons,  his 
commands,  and  his  prayers ;  he  promises — he 
vows — he  swears  that  there  is  safety  in  holding  on 
— safety,  if  Greeks  will  be  brave  !  The  men  hear 
and  are  moved  ;  but  the  gale  rouses  itself  once 
more,  and  again  the  raging  sea  comes  trampling 
over  the  timbers  that  are  the  life  of  all.  The 
fierce  Hydriot  advances  one  step  nearer  to  the 
Captain,  and  the  angry  growl  of  the  people  goes 
floating  down  the  wind ;  but  they  listen,  they 
waver  once  more,  and  once  more  resolve,  then 
waver  again,  thus  doubtfully  hanging  between 
the  terrors  of  the  storm  and  the  persuasion 
of  glorious  speech,  as  though  it  were  the  Athenian 
that  talked,  and  Philip  of  Macedon  that  thundered 
on  the  weather-bow. 

Brave  thoughts  winged  on  Grecian  words  gained 
their  natural  mastery  over  Terror  ;  the  brigantine 
held  on  her  course,  and  reached  smooth  water  at 
last. 

A.  W.  Kinglake. 


W.    p.    SNOW  lOI 

Off  Cape  Horn        -o        ^cy        ^o 

(From  A  Two  Years'  Cruise  off  Tier r a  del  Fucgo) 

TI)  Y  this  time  it  was  blowing  very  hard,  and  the 
huge  seas,  Hke  roUing  Alps,  with  broad  and 
deep  valleys  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  breadth  be- 
tween, came  in  an  almost  unbroken  meridional 
line  towards  us.  1  soon  found  that  we  could  run 
on  no  longer.  In  the  hollow  of  the  seas  we  were 
almost  becalmed,  while  on  their  summit  the  wind 
caught  us  as  though  about  to  lift  ship  and  men 
into  the  air  and  send  all  to  instant  destruction. 
The  wild  scud  was  flying  fast ;  the  sea-birds  swept 
round  and  round  us,  each  time  narrowing  their 
circle,  as  these  birds  almost  always  do  when  a 
severe  gale  is  approaching.  The  high  and  rugged 
land  on  our  left  was  capped  in  clouds,  and  every- 
thing had  within  the  past  hour  assumed  a  threaten- 
ing and  gloomy  look. 

On  the  particular  night  of  which  I  am  speaking 
I  was  fatigued,  and  sore,  and  cross,  and  despond- 
ing. If  I  attempted  to  rouse  myself  and  take  a 
few  spasmodic  steps  along  the  deck,  a  sudden  lift 
of  the  sea  would  send  me  flying  in  a  frantic 
manner,  and  with  bursting  force,  against  some 
fixture  of  tlie  ship.  If  I  held  fast  by  the  rigging 
or  the  bulwark  rail,  and  glanced   upon  that  wild 


I02  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

mysterious  sea,  with  its  dark  masses  and  snowy 
crests  rolling  terrifically  on  towards  us,  a  sheet  of 
spray,  some  hundred  yards  in  length,  would  dash 
forward,  and  all  but  send  me,  as  it  did  the  little 
vessel,  heeling  over  to  the  other  side.  Turn  which 
way  I  would,  look  how  I  might,  be  stationary  or 
be  moving,  it  was  all  the  same  ;  and,  no  matter 
what  the  ship,  or  what  the  voyage,  or  what  the 
skill,  or  what  the  advantages  possessed,  I  will  say 
that  such  an  awful  nig^ht  as  we  had  off  Cape  Horn, 
and  such  as  hundreds  and  hundreds  similarly  ex- 
perience, is  a  night  as  full  of  darkling  terrors, 
ghostly  and  real,  as  any  one  can  possibly  conceive. 
Every  sea  that  came  seemed  like  a  huge  water- 
mountain  ready  to  leap  upon  us  ;  and  though  its 
main  body  passed  beneath  our  hull,  yet  in  many 
instances  perfect  cataracts  of  water  came  pouring 
down  upon  us  and  streamed  across  our  decks. 
Where  the  men  got  to  I  know  not ;  for  I  could 
neither  see  nor  hear  them  at  such  particular 
moments.  All  I  could  do,  all  I  thought  to  do, 
was  to  hold  my  breath,  to  gaze  as  if  with  fasci- 
nated look,  and  watch  with  an  all  but  awful  fear 
hoping  that  the  mighty  mass  of  briny  element 
would  pass  us  scathless  or  without  much  damage. 
And  as  it  passed,  with  the  thunder  roar  of  wind 
and  sea  alike  sounding  in  my  ear,  I  stood  as  if 
entranced  while  I  pierced  the  darkness  to  try  and 
see  if  all  were  right  and  well.     But  satisfy  myself 


R.  L.  STEVENSON    AND    LLOVD    OSBOURNE      103 

I  could  not  till  in  frequent  demands  I  had  made 
the  inquiry  ;  receiving  for  reply,  "  All  right,  sir  ! 
nothing  gone,  except  a  bit  of  the  spare  stuff  to  lee- 
ward ! "  and  so  on  ;  only  to  be  on  the  qui  vive  for 
the  next  giant  wave,  and  to  again  sing  out,  as.  I 
often  did,  when  I  saw  it  approach,  "  Look  out 
there,  men  I  Look  out  I  Hold  on  every  one  of 
you  !     Hold  on  !  " 

And  thus  the  night  passed  on,  and  thus  Cape 
Horn  demanded  of  us  its  tribute  !  It  was  cold, 
too  ;  it  was  wretchedly  uncomfortable  ;  and  fancy 
made  me  see  before  my  eyes,  even  amidst  that 
fearful  darkness,  a  tempting  and  a  dazzling  home- 
side  picture,  where,  around  the  parlour  fire,  sweet 
smiling  faces  and  dear  friends  were  congregated, 
as  I  really  think  in  no  one  spot  on  earth  but  where 
the  Anglo-Saxon  dwells  it  is  found  in  all  its  great 
enchantment.  Truly  did  I  feel  its  vainly  wished- 
for  pleasure  now  ;  but  truly  might  I  wish,  and 
wish  in  vain,  for  nothing,  save  the  dark  clouds  of 
heaven  and  the  fierce  tempest,  with  the  mighty 
uplifted  ocean,  was  likely  to  meet  my  view. 

\V.  F.  Snow. 

Finding  the  Wreck        <:iy        ^;:i>^ 

(From  The  Wreiker) 

'X'HE  morning  jjroke  with  sinister  brightness; 

the  air  alarmingly  transparent,  the  sky  pure, 

tlie  rim  of  the  horizon  clear  and  strong  against  the 


I04  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

heavens.  The  wind  and  the  wild  seas,  now  vastly 
swollen,  indefatigably  hunted  us.  I  stood  on  deck 
choking  with  fear  ;  I  seemed  to  lose  all  power 
upon  my  limbs  ;  my  knees  were  as  paper  when  she 
plunged  into  the  murderous  valleys ;  my  heart 
collapsed  when  some  black  mountain  fell  in  ava- 
lanche beside  her  counter,  and  the  water,  that  was 
more  than  spray,  swept  round  my  ankles  like  a 
torrent.  I  was  conscious  of  but  one  strong  desire 
— to  bear  myself  decently  in  my  terrors,  and,  what- 
ever should  happen  to  my  life,  preserve  my  char- 
acter :  as  the  captain  said,  we  are  a  queer  kind  of 
beasts.  Breakfast  time  came,  and  I  made  shift  to 
swallow  some  hot  tea.  Then  I  must  stagger  below 
to  take  the  time,  reading  the  chronometer  with 
dizzy  eyes,  and  marvelling  the  while  what  value 
there  could  be  in  observations  taken  in  a  ship 
launched  (as  ours  then  was)  like  a  missile  among 
flying  seas.  The  forenoon  dragged  on  in  a  grind- 
ing monotony  of  peril  ;  every  spoke  of  the  wheel  a 
rash  but  an  obliged  experiment — rash  as  a  forlorn 
hope,  needful  as  the  leap  that  lands  a  fireman 
from  a  burning  staircase.  Noon  was  made  ;  the 
captain  dined  on  his  day's  work,  and  I  on  watch- 
ing him ;  and  our  place  was  entered  on  the  chart 
with  a  meticulous  precision  which  seemed  to  me 
half  pitiful  and  half  absurd,  since  the  next  eye  to 
see  that  sheet  of  paper  might  be  the  eye  of  an 
exploring  fish.     One  o'clock  came,  then  two  ;  the 


R.  L.  STEVENSON    AND    LLOYD   OSBOURNE      105 

captain  gloomed  and  chafed,  as  he  held  to  the 
coaming  of  the  house,  and  if  ever  I  saw  dormant 
murder  in  man's  eye,  it  was  in  his.  God  help  the 
hand  that  should  have  disobeyed  him. 

Of  a  sudden  he  turned  towards  the  mate,  who 
was  doing  his  trick  at  the  wheel. 

"  Two  points  on  the  port  bow,"  I  heard  him  say ; 
and  he  took  the  wheel  himself 

Johnson  nodded,  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  back 
of  his  wet  hand,  watched  a  chance  as  the  vessel 
lunged  up  hill,  and  got  to  the  main  rigging,  where 
he  swarmed  aloft.  Up  and  up  I  watched  him  go, 
hanging  on  at  every  ugly  plunge,  gaining  with 
every  lull  of  the  schooner's  movement,  until, 
clambering  into  the  cross-trees  and  clinging  with 
one  arm  round  the  masts,  I  could  see  him  take 
one  comprehensive  sweep  of  the  south-westerly 
horizon.  The  next  moment  he  had  slid  down  the 
backstay  and  stood  on  deck,  with  a  grin,  a  nod, 
and  a  gesture  of  the  finger  that  said  "  Yes  "  ;  the 
next  again,  and  he  was  back  sweating  and  squirm- 
ing at  the  wheel,  his  tired  face  streaming  and 
smiling,  and  his  hair  and  the  rags  and  corners  of 
his  clothes  lashing  round  him  in  the  wind. 

Nares  went  below,  fetched  up  his  binocular,  and 
fell  into  a  silent  perusal  of  the  sea-line  ;  I  also,  with 
my  unaided  eyesight,    i.ittlc  by  little,  in  that  white 


Io6  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

waste  of  water,  I  began  to  make  out  a  quarter 
where  the  whiteness  appeared  more  condensed  ; 
the  sky  above  was  whitish  hkewise,  and  misty  hke 
a  squall ;  and  little  by  little  there  thrilled  upon  my 
ears  a  note  deeper  and  more  terrible  than  the 
yelling  of  the  gale — the  long,  thundering  roll  of 
breakers.  Nares  wiped  his  night-glass  on  his 
sleeve  and  passed  it  to  me,  motioning,  as  he  did 
so,  with  his  hand.  An  endless  wilderness  of 
raging  billows  came  and  went  and  danced  in 
the  circle  of  the  glass ;  now  and  then  a  pale  corner 
of  sky,  or  the  strong  line  of  the  horizon  rugged 
with  the  heads  of  waves  ;  and  then  of  a  sudden — 
come  and  gone  ere  I  could  fix  it,  with  a  swallow's 
swiftness — one  glimpse  of  what  we  had  come  so 
far  and  paid  so  dear  to  see :  the  masts  and  rigging 
of  a  brig  pencilled  on  heaven,  with  an  ensign 
streaming  at  the  main,  and  the  ragged  ribbons  of 
a  topsail  thrashing  from  the  yard.  Again  and 
again,  with  toilful  searching,  I  recalled  that  appa- 
rition. There  was  no  sign  of  any  land  ;  the  wreck 
stood  between  sea  and  sky,  a  thing  the  most 
isolated  I  had  ever  viewed  ;  but  as  we  drew  nearer 
I  perceived  her  to  be  defended  by  a  line  of 
breakers  which  drew  off  on  either  hand  and 
marked,  indeed,  the  nearest  segment  of  the  reef. 
Heavy  spray  hung  over  them  like  a  smoke,  some 
hundred  feet  into  the  air  ;  and  the  sound  of  their 
consecutive  explosions  rolled  like  a  cannonade. 


J.    C.    VAN    DYKE  107 

In  half  an  hour  we  were  close  in  ;  for  perhaps 
as  long  again  we  skirted  that  formidable  barrier 
towards  its  farther  side ;  and  presently  the  sea 
began  insensibly  to  moderate  and  the  ship  to  go 
more  sweetly.  We  had  gained  the  lea  of  the 
island,  as  (for  form's  sake)  I  may  call  that  ring  of 
foam  and  haiiC  and  thunder  ;  and,  shaking  out  a 
reef,  wore  ship  and  headed  for  the  passage. 

A".  L.  S/evenson  and  Lloyd  Osboitrne. 


Calm  after  Storm        o        -=::>        ^^Cy 

(From  The  Opal  Sea) 

A  LL  night  long  the  pound  against  the  cliffs  and 
■^^  the  tremble  of  the  shore !  All  night  the 
whistle  of  the  spray-laden  wind  as  it  drives 
through  the  branches  of  the  pines  !  All  night 
the  curl  and  flash  of  the  white  crests  on  the  open 
sea !  By  morning  perhaps  the  wind  has  fallen, 
the  clouds  have  vanished,  the  sun  is  forth  ;  and  yet 
for  many  hours  afterward  the  far  ocean  waves 
keep  swashing  against  each  other  and  collapsing 
in  swirls  of  foam.  Finally  the  sea  runs  down,  the 
breakers  sink  ;  and  at  sunset  as  you  walk  along 
the  beach  all  is  quiet.  It  is  hard  to  realize  per- 
haps that  the  now  smooth  sea  with  its  placid  little 
swells  could  ever  have  worn  such  a  savage  front. 
But  the  traces  of  its  fury  still  remain.     The  dunes 


Io8  THE   CALL   OF   THE    SEA 

are  cut  through  l)y  inlets  here  and  piled  high  with 
wet  sand  there,  the  beaches  are  ripped  and  torn, 
the  boulders  are  rolled  over,  scarred  and  battered ; 
and  the  face-walls  of  the  cliffs  show  where  tons 
and  tons  of  stone  have  been  broken  away  and 
fallen  into  the  sea. 

Perhaps  far  out  upon  the  distant  reef,  where  the 
white  caps  are  still  showing,  hung  helplessly  upon 
the  sharp-fanged  rocks,  heeled  over  on  her  side 
with  masts  and  rigging  all  down,  is  the  battered 
hulk  of  a  schooner  that  was  driven  in  by  the  wind 
the  night  before.  The  little  black  speck  that  moves 
slowly  about  her  fore-foot  is  possibly  a  boat  of 
a  life-saving  crew  that  was  unable  to  save  during 
the  storm,  and  is  now  only  making  a  perfunctory 
examination  of  what  remains.  Perhaps  again  the 
little  knot  of  fisherfolk  that  is  seen  crowded  to- 
gether far  down  the  beach  has  found  at  the  water's 
edge,  half  buried  in  the  sand,  a  cold  form  with 
a  frayed  rope  shirred  about  the  waist,  purplish 
hands  with  torn  finger  nails_,  and  a  white  face  with 
wet  hair  clinging  about  it  as  the  tide  went  out. 
Dead,  quite  dead  !  Yes  ;  but  what  cares  the  sea  ! 
Captain  or  cabin  boy,  prince  or  pauper,  lover  or 

hater,  what  cares  the  sea  ! 

/.  C.  Vim  Dyke. 


VI 
SHIPS   AND  SEA  TRAVEL 


I  hear  some  of  our  sea  Yahoos  find  fault  with  my  sea 
language,  as  not  proper  in  many  parts,  nor  now  in  use. 
I  cannot  help  it.  In  my  first  voyages,  while  I  was  young, 
I  was  instructed  by  the  oldest  mariners,  and  learned  to 
speak  as  they  did.  ]?ut  I  have  since  found  that  the  sea 
Yahoos  are  apt,  like  the  land  ones,  to  become  newfangled 
in  their  words,  which  the  latter  change  every  year.  .  .  . 

Jonathan  Swi/i  (from  "A  Letter  from 
Captain  Gulliver  to  his  Cousin  Sympson"). 


Signs  of  Land        -v>        ^^:>         ^i>^ 

(From  Wvcjourita! ;  Ilakluyt  Soc,  trans.) 

A  T  dawn,  on  that  Monday,  they  saw  much  more 
■^^  weed  appearing,  like  herbs  from  rivers,  in 
which  they  found  a  live  crab,  which  the  Admiral 
kept.  He  says  that  these  crabs  are  certain  signs 
of  land.  The  sea-water  was  found  to  be  less  salt 
than  it  had  been  since  leaving  the  Canaries.  The 
breezes  were  always  soft.  Every  one  was  pleased, 
and  the  best  sailers  went  ahead  to  sight  the  first 
land.  They  saw  many  tunny-fish,  and  the  crew 
of  the  Nina  killed  one.  The  Admiral  here  says 
that  these  signs  of  land  come  from  the  west,  "  in 
which  direction  I  trust  in  that  high  God  in  whose 
hands  are  all  victories  that  very  soon  we  shall 
sight  land."  In  that  morning  he  says  that  a  white 
bird  was  seen  which  has  not  the  habit  of  sleeping 
on  the  sea,  called  rabo  dc  jiinco  (boatswain-bird). 

Christopher  Coliiiiibus. 


112  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

The  Last  Voyage  of  Christopher  Columbus 

(From  Christopher  Columbus) 

'X'HE  Admiral  lay  crippled  in  his  cabin  listening 
to  the  rush  and  bubble  of  the  water,  feeling 
the  blows  and  recoils  of  the  unending  battle, 
hearkening  anxiously  to  the  straining  of  the 
timbers  and  the  vessel's  agonized  complainings 
under  the  pounding  of  the  sea.  We  do  not  know 
what  his  thoughts  were  ;  but  we  may  guess  that 
they  looked  backward  rather  than  forward,  and 
that  often  they  must  have  been  prayers  that  the 
present  misery  would  come  somehow  or  other  to 
an  end.  Up  on  deck  brother  Bartholomew,  who 
has  developed  some  grievous  complaint  of  the 
jaws  and  teeth — complaint  not  known  to  us  more 
particularly,  but  dreadful  enough  from  that  descrip- 
tion— does  his  duty  also,  with  that  heroic  manful- 
ness  that  has  marked  his  whole  career  ;  and  some- 
where in  the  ship  young  Ferdinand  is  sheltering 
from  the  sprays  and  breaking  seas,  finding  his 
world  of  adventure  grown  somewhat  gloomy  and 
sordid  of  late,  and  feeling  that  he  has  now  had  his 
fill  of  the  sea.  .  .  .  Shut  your  eyes  and  let  the  illu- 
sions of  time  and  place  fade  from  you ;  be  with 
them  for  a  moment  on  this  last  voyage  ;  hear  that 
eternal  foaming  and  crashing  of  great  waves,  the 
shrieking  of  wind   in  cordage,  the  cracking  and 


FILSON    YOUNG  II3 

slatting  of  the  sails,  the  mad  lashing  of  loose  ropes  ; 
the  painful  swinging,  and  climbing  up  and  diving- 
down,  and  sinking  and  staggering  and  helpless 
strivings  of  the  small  ship  in  the  waste  of  water. 
The  sea  is  as  empty  as  chaos,  nothing  for  days 
and  weeks  but  that  infinite  tumbling  surface  and 
heaven  of  grey  storm-clouds ;  a  world  of  salt 
surges  encircled  in  horizons  by  dim  foam.  Time 
and  place  are  nothing  ;  the  agony  and  pain  of  such 
moments  are  eternal. 

But  the  two  brothers,  grim  and  gigantic  in  their 
sea  power,  subtle  as  the  wind  itself  in  their  sea 
wit,  win  the  battle.  Over  the  thousands  of  miles 
of  angry  surges  they  urge  that  small  ship  towards 
calm  and  safety,  until  one  day  the  sea  begins  to 
abate  a  little,  and  through  the  spray  and  tumult 
of  waters  the  dim  loom  of  land  is  seen.  The  sea 
falls  back  disappointed  and  finally  conquered  by 
Christopher  Columbus,  whose  ship,  battered,  crip- 
pled, and  strained,  comes  back  out  of  the  wilder- 
ness of  waters  and  glides  quietly  into  the  smooth 
h.'irbour  of  San  Lucar,  Noveml)er  7,  1 504.  There 
were  no  guns  or  bells  to  greet  the  Admiral  ;  his 
only  salute  was  in  the  thunder  of  the  conquered 
seas  ;  and  he  was  carried  ashore  to  San  Lucar, 
and  thence  to  Seville,  a  sick  and  broken  man. 

Filson  Ypuiii^. 


114  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

The  Benefits  of  Navigation        ^=c>        -<:2^ 

(From  Three  Voyages) 

/^NE  of  the  excellentest  artes  that  ever  hath  bin 
devised  is  the  arte  of  navigation,  which  in 
times  past  was  so  raw  and  unknowen,  that  no  man 
durst  travel  by  sea,  saving  only  alongst  the  shore  : 
and  if  by  wind,  currant,  or  tempest,  he  were  driven 
against  his  will  so  far  from  the  land  that  he  lost 
the  sight  thereof,  he  made  no  other  accompte  but 
to  be  cast  away,  his  vessell  was  so  rude  and  his 
skill  so  little. 

M.  Frobisher. 

(From   Three   Voyages  to  the  Arctic  Regions ;  Hakluyt 
Soc. ,  trans.) 

T  T  is  a  most  certaine  and  an  assured  assertion, 
that  nothing  doth  more  benefit  and  further  the 
common-wealth  (specially  these  countries')  then 
the  art  and  knowledge  of  nauigation,  in  regard 
that  such  countries  and  nations  as  are  strong  and 
mightie  at  sea,  haue  the  meanes  and  ready  way  to 
draw,  fetch,  and  bring  vnto  them  for  their  main- 
tenaunce,  all  the  principalest  commodities  and 
fruites  of  the  earth,  for  that  thereby  they  are  in- 
abled  to  bring  all  necessary  things  for  the  nourish- 
ment and  sustentation  of  man  from  the  vttermost 

'  Namely,  the  United  Provinces  of  the  Netherlands. 


W.    BARENTS  II5 

partes  of  the  world,  and  to  carry  and  conuay  such 
wares  and  marchendizes  whereof  they  haue  great 
store  and  aboundance  vnto  the  same  places,  which 
As  the  art  of  ^y  reason  of  the  art  of  nauigation  and 
nauigation        the  commodities  of  the  sea,  is  easily 

more  increa'?-  '  ' 

eth,  so  there      to  be  effected  and  brought  to  passe. 

are  daily  more     ■•■.r,-    ,  •         .  •        ,       , 

new  countries  Wnich  nauigation  as  It  dayly  more 
found  out.  and  more  increaseth  (to  the  great 
woonder  and  admiration  of  those,  that  com- 
pare the  sea-faring  and  navigation  vsed  in  our 
forefathers'  times,  yea,  and  that  also  that  hath 
beene  practised  in  our  age,  with  that  which  now 
Diligence  and  ^^  this  present  is  daily  furthered  and 
effect"thrt"  sought  out),  SO  there  are  continually 
which  is  new  voiages  made,  and  strange  coasts 

*°"^''  discouered  ;  the  which  although  they 

be  not  done  by  the  first,  secod,  or  third  voiage,  but 
after,  by  tract  of  time,  first  brought  to  their  full 
effect,  and  desired  commoditie,  and  the  fruits 
thereby,  by  continuance  of  time  reaped.  Yet  we 
,,,        .     .      must  not  be  abasht,  nor  dismayed,  at 

We  must  not  '  J       ^      - 

leaueof  b^        the  labour,  toile,  trauaile,  and  dagers 

some  men  s  ....  ,  , 

dislike  or  dis-  sustayncd  m  such  uoiages,  to  that  end 
pji'^edlng"!  "i^'^e,  although  as  I  said  before  the 
benefit  thereof  be  not  had  nor  seene 
in  the  first,  second,  third,  or  more  uoiages  ;  for 
what  labour  is  more  profitable,  and  worthier  praise 
and  commendation,  then  tlial  which  icndeth  vnto 
the  common  good  and  benefit  of  all  men.  .  .  . 

IV.  Ji(ttc/its. 


Il6  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

(From  The  Seaman's  Sccre/s) 

A  ND  sith  nauigation  is  the  meane  whereby 
■^^  Countryes  are  discouered,  and  communitie 
drawne  betweene  nation  and  nation,  the  worde  of 
God  pubhshed  to  the  blessed  recouery  of  the 
forraine  ofcastes  from  whence  it  hath  pleased  his 
diuine  Maiestie  as  yet  to  detayne  the  brightnes  of 
his  glorie  :  and  that  by  Nauigation  commonweales 
through  mutuall  trade  are  not  only  susteined,  but 
mightely  enriched,  with  how  great  esteeme  ought  the 
painefuU  Seaman  to  be  embraced  by  whose  hard  ad- 
uentures  such  excellent  benefites  are  atcheiued,  for 
by  his  exceeding  great  hazzards  the  forme  of  the 
earth,  the  quantities  of  Countries,  the  diuersitie 
of  nations  and  the  natures  of  Zones,  Climats, 
Countries  and  people,  are  apparently  made  known 
vnto  vs.  Besides,  the  great  benefites  mutually 
interchanged  betweene  nations,  of  such  fruits, 
commodities,  and  artificiall  practises  wherewith 
God  hath  blessed  each  particular  country,  coast 
and  nation,  according  to  the  nature  and  situation 
of  the  place. 

For  what  hath  made  the  Spaniard  to  be  so  great 
a  Monarch,  the  Commander  of  both  Indias,  to 
abound  in  wealth  and  all  natures  benefites,  but 
only  the  painefuU  industrie  of  his  Subiects  by 
Nauigation.  Their  former  trade  was  only  figs, 
orenges,  and  oyle,  but  now  through  Nauigation  is 


HILAIRE    BELLOC  II7 

brought  to  be  golde,  siluer,  pearles,  silkes,  and 
spice,  by  long  and  painefoll  trade  recouered. 
Which  great  benefites  onely  by  her  Maiesties 
louing  clemencie  and  merciful  fauour  he  doth 
possesse  :  for  if  her  highnes  and  her  most  honour- 
able Lordes  would  not  regard  the  small  distance 
betweene  her  dominions  and  those  famous  rich 
Kingdomes,  the  easines  of  the  passage  being  once 
discoured  (the  North-west  I  mean)  with  the  full 
sufficience  of  her  highnes  Subiects  to  effect  the 
same,  there  could  then  be  no  doubt,  but  her 
stately  seate  of  London  should  bee  the  storehouse 
of  Europe,  and  a  nursse  to  all  nations,  in  yeelding 
al  Indian  comodities  in  a  far  better  condition,  and 
at  a  more  easie  rate  then  now  brought  unto  vs,  ex- 
changing commodities  of  our  owne  store,  with  a 
plentiful!  returne  at  the  first  hand,  which  now  by 
many  exchanges  are  brought  vnto  vs. 

John  Davis^  The  Navigator. 

The  Lateen  Sail        -<;:i>'        <::>.        <:> 

(From  Esto  Perpelxia) 

'T^HERE  is  a  sort  of  sail  which  may  be  called 
the  original  of  all  sails.  It  is  the  sail  with 
which  antifiuity  was  familiar.  It  brought  the  ships 
to  Tenedos  and  the  Argo  carried  it.  The  Nor- 
wegians had  it  when  they  were  pirates  a  thousand 


Il8  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

years  ago.  They  have  it  still.  It  is  nearer  a  lug- 
sail  than  anything  else,  and  indeed  our  Deal 
luggers  carry  something  very  near  it.  It  is  almost 
a  square  sail,  but  the  yard  has  a  slight  rake  and 
there  is  a  bit  of  a  peak  to  it.  It  is  the  kind  of  sail 
which  seems  to  come  first  into  the  mind  of  any 
man  when  he  sets  out  to  use  the  wind.  It  is  to  be 
seen  continually  to-day  hoisted  above  small  boats 
in  the  north  of  Europe. 

But  this  sail  is  too  simple.  It  will  not  go  close 
to  the  wind,  and  in  those  light  and  variable  airs 
which  somehow  have  no  force  along  the  deck,  it 
hangs  empty  and  makes  no  way  because  it  has  no 
height. 

Now  when  during  that  great  renaissance  of 
theirs  in  the  seventh  century  the  Arabs  left  their 
deserts  and  took  to  the  sea,  they  became  for  a 
short  time  in  sailing,  as  in  philosophy,  the  teachers 
of  their  new  subjects.  They  took  this  sail,  which 
they  had  found  in  all  the  ports  they  had  conquered 
along  this  coast — in  Alexandria,  in  Cyrene,  in  Car- 
thage, in  Cssarea — they  lightened  and  lengthened 
the  yard,  they  lifted  the  peak  up  high,  they  clewed 
down  the  foot,  and  very  soon  they  had  that  tri- 
angular lateen  sail  which  will,  perhaps,  remain 
when  every  other  evidence  of  their  early  conquer- 
ing energy  has  disappeared.  With  such  a  sail 
they  drove  those  first  fleets  of  theirs  which  gave 


HILAIRE    BELLOC  IIQ 

them  at  once  the  islands  and  the  commerce  of  the 
Mediterranean.  It  was  the  sail  which  permitted 
their  invasion  of  the  northern  shores  and  the  un- 
happy subjection  of  Spain. 

We  Europeans  have  for  now  some  seven  hundred 
years,  from  at  least  the  Third  Crusade,  so  con- 
stantly used  this  gift  of  Islam  that  we  half  forget 
its  origin.  You  may  see  it  in  all  the  Christian 
harbours  of  the  Mediterranean  to-day,  in  every 
port  of  the  Portuguese  coast,  and  here  and  there 
as  far  north  as  the  Channel.  It  is  not  to  be  seen 
beyond  Cherbourg,  but  in  Cherbourg  it  is  quite 
common.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  The  little  ships  so  rigged  come  out  like 
heralds  far  from  the  coast  to  announce  the  old 
dominion  of  the  East  and  of  the  religion  that  made 
them :  of  the  united  civilization  that  has  launched 
them  over  all  its  seas,  from  east  of  India  to  south 
of  Zanzibar  and  right  out  here  in  the  western 
place  which  we  are  so  painfully  recovering.  They 
are  the  only  made  thing,  the  onXy  form  we  accepted 
from  the  Arab:  and  we  did  well  to  accept  it.  The 
little  ships  are  a  delight. 

You  see  them  everywhere.  They  belong  to  the 
sea  and  they  animate  it.  They  are  similar  as 
waves  arc  similar  :  they  are  different  as  waves  are 
different.  They  come  into  a  hundred  positions 
against  the  light.  They  heel  and  run  with  every 
mode  of  energy. 


I20  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

There  is  nothing  makes  a  man's  heart  so  buoyant 
as  to  see  one  of  the  little  ships  bowling  along  breast- 
high  towards  him,  with  the  wind  and  the  clouds 
behind  it,  careering  over  the  sea.  It  seems  to 
have  borrowed  something  of  the  air  and  some- 
thing of  the  water,  and  to  unite  them  both  and  to 
be  their  offspring  and  also  their  bond.  When 
they  are  middle-way  over  the  sea  towards  one 
under  a  good  breeze,  the  little  ships  are  things  to 
remember. 

So  it  is  when  they  carry  double  sail  and  go,  as 
we  say  of  our  schooners,  "  wing  and  wing."  For 
they  can  carry  two  sails  when  the  wind  is 
moderate,  and  especially  when  the  vessel  is  run- 
ning before  it ;  but  these  two  sails  are  not  carried 
upon  two  masts,  but  both  upon  the  same  mast. 
The  one  is  the  common  or  working  sail,  carried  in 
all  weathers.  The  other  is  a  sort  of  spinnaker,  of 
which  you  may  see  the  yard  lying  along  decks  in 
harbour  or  triced  up  a  little  by  the  halyard,  so  as 
to  swing  clear  of  the  hands.  When  the  little  ships 
come  up  like  this  with  either  sail  well  out  and 
square  and  their  course  laid  straight  before  the 
general  run  of  a  fresh  sea,  rolling  as  they  go,  it  is 
as  though  the  wind  had  a  friend  and  a  companion 
of  its  own,  understanding  all  its  moods,  so  easily 
and  rapidly  do  they  arrive  towards  the  shore.  A 
little  jib  (along  this  coast  at  least)  is  bent  along 
the  forestay,  and  the  dark  line  of  it  marks  the 


HILAIRE    BELLOC  12  1 

swing  and  movement  of  the  whole.  So  also  when 
you  stand  and  look  from  along  their  wake  and  see 
them  leaving  for  the  horizon  along  a  slant  of  the 
Levantine,  with  the  breeze  just  on  their  quarter 
and  their  laden  hulls  careening  a  trifle  to  leeward, 
you  would  say  they  were  great  birds,  born  of  the 
sea,  and  sailing  down  the  current  from  which  they 
were  bred.  The  peaks  of  their  tall  sails  have  a 
turn  to  them  like  the  wing-tips  of  birds,  especially 
of  those  darting  birds  which  come  up  to  us  from 
the  south  after  winter  and  shoot  along  their  way. 
Moreover,  the  sails  of  these  little  ships  never  seem 
to  lose  the  memory  of  power.  Their  curves  and 
fulness  always  suggest  a  movement  of  the  hull. 
Very  often  at  sunset  when  the  dead  calm  reflects 
things  unbroken  like  an  inland  pond,  the  topmost 
angle  of  these  lateens  catches  some  hesitating  air 
that  stirs  above,  and  leads  it  down  the  sail,  so  that 
a  little  ripple  trembles  round  the  bows  of  the  boat, 
though  all  the  water  beside  them  is  quite  smooth, 
and  you  sec  her  gliding  in  without  oars.  She 
comes  along  in  front  of  the  twilight,  as  gradual 
and  silent  as  the  evening,  and  seems  to  be  im- 
pelled by  nothing  more  substantial  than  the 
advance  of  darkness.  It  is  with  such  companions 
to  proclaim  the  title  of  the  land  that  one  comes 
round  under  a  point  of  hills  and  enters  harbour. 

Hilaire  Hclloc. 


122  THE   CALL   OF    THE   SEA 

The  Modern  Steamship        -v>        ^^^^ 

(From  The  Opal  Sea) 

"DUT  however  much  of  actual  beauty  cUiigs  to  a 
sail,  and  however  much  of  traditional  rever- 
ence bids  us  scorn  an  innovation,  is  there  not 
something  to  be  said  for  the  grim,  fire-spitting 
ocean  steamer?  In  common  with  all  steam  de- 
vices the  steamship  has  come  in  for  a  fair  share  of 
denunciation  ;  but  as  a  machine,  as  a  resistless 
force,  is  there  not  something  here  to  stir  the 
pulses  ?  As  she  sweeps  down  the  harbour  and 
out  over  the  bar,  flags  streaming,  black  smoke 
trailing,  wide  wake  rolling,  what  could  be  finer  ! 
She  sits  low  down  aft,  she  rises  up  keen  and  clean 
forward,  her  cutwater  is  as  eager  as  a  headsman's 
axe,  her  smoke-stacks  have  a  slant  astern  as 
though  ready  for  any  wind  or  wave.  What  a 
sense  of  power  is  there  !  What  can  stop  the  pas- 
sage of  that  dark  conqueror !  And  she  moves 
with  no  apparent  effort.  The  source  of  power  is 
not  disclosed  to  the  eye.  Nor  can  the  ear  detect 
the  beat  of  engines.  The  steel  mass  seems  to  be 
driven  by  a  force  as  invisible  as  resistless. 

No  prayers  to  Oceanus,  the  parent  of  the  gods, 
go  up,  when  the  ocean  liner  puts  to  sea.  ^olus  is 
not  invoked    for  favourable  winds,   nor   are   the 


J.    C.    VAN    DYKE  1 23 

Tritons  and  Nereids  put  in  good  humour  with 
promises  and  offerings.  The  ship  of  steel  and 
steam  seems  to  care  httle  for  the  elements.  The 
tremendous  power  in  the  engines  carries  her 
through  wind  and  storm,  through  wave  and 
spray.  Nothing  halts  or  holds  her  for  more 
than  a  moment.  As  the  waters  come  rushing  at 
her  there  is  an  easy  bend  and  sway  to  the  long 
body  ;  she  rises  and  falls,  rolls  quietly  with  a 
broadside,  pitches  sharply  with  a  head  sea  ;  but 
there  is  no  pause,  no  stop.  The  steady  thrust  of 
the  screws  keeps  driving  her  ever  on  and  on.  Far 
away  at  sea  her  motion  is  still  apparent,  and 
finally  when  she  is  hull  down  beyond  the  rim,  and 
only  the  black  banner  of  smoke  trailing  along  the 
horizon  tells  where  she  "  blows,"  we  still  feel  that 
she  is  moving,  shouldering  the  waves  away,  push- 
ing on  and  on  ;  methodically,  mechanically  if  you 
will,  but  still  resistlessly. 

The  mechanism  and  the  method  become  almost 
human  in  their  stuljborn  perseverance  when  the 
vessel  is  steaming  in  storm  against  fierce  head 
winds.  There  is  the  deep  plunge  of  the  bow  in 
the  waves,  the  alternate  lift  of  the  stern  out  of 
water,  the  swift  racing  of  the  exposed  screws  for  a 
few  moments  ;  and  then  the  settling  down  again 
to  a  steady  thump-thumf),  thump-thump,  thump- 
thump  !     The  waves   may  board   her   and   break 


124  THE    CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

davits,  bridges,  and  stanchions,  she  may  pitch  and 
roll  till  cabin  and  hold  are  a  series  of  crashes  and 
smashes,  but  those  indomitable  engines  keep  up 
their  pulsations.  You  lie  awake  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  clinging  to  your  berth,  hearing  the  whip- 
like swish  of  the  spray  flying  by  the  port  hole, 
listening  to  the  roar  of  the  wind  in  the  rigging, 
feeling  the  vessel  pitch  and  stagger  under  you, 
and  perhaps  wondering  if  rivets  and  plates  of  steel 
can  long  hold  out  against  such  wrenching ;  but 
still  beneath  you,  skipping  no  beat,  is  the  welcome 
thump-thump,  thump-thump,  thump-thump  of  the 
engines.  She  was  designed  to  defy  the  winds  and 
fight  the  elements  and  she  does  it — with  some 
groanings  from  strained  partition,  beam,  and 
girder  it  may  be,  but  still  she  does  it. 

/.  C.  Van  Dyke. 

(From  The  Mirroi-  of  the  Sea) 

A  ND  besides,  your  modern  ship,  which  is  a 
steamship,  makes  her  passage  on  other  prin- 
ciples than  yielding  to  the  weather  and  humouring 
the  sea.  She  receives  smashing  blows,  but  she 
advances  ;  it  is  a  slogging  fight,  and  not  a  scientific 
campaign.  The  machinery,  the  steel,  the  fire,  the 
steam,  have  stepped  in  between  tlie  man  and  the 
sea.  A  modern  fleet  of  ships  does  not  so  much 
make  use  of  the  sea  as  exploit  a  highway.  The 
modern  ship  is  not  the  sport  of  the  waves.     Let  us 


JOSEPH   CONRAD  I  25 

say  that  each  of  her  voyages  is  a  triumphant  pro- 
gress ;  and  yet  it  is  a  question  whether  it  is  not  a 
more  subtle  and  human  triumph  to  be  the  sport  of 
the  waves  and  yet  survive,  achieving  your  end. 

In  his  own  time  a  man  is  always  very  modern. 
Whether  the  seaman  of  three  hundred  years  hence 
will  have  the  faculty  of  sympathy  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  An  incorrigible  mankind  hardens  its  heart 
in  the  progress  of  its  own  perfectability.  How  will 
they  feel  on  seeing  the  illustrations  to  the  sea 
novels  of  our  day,  or  of  our  yesterday?  It  is 
impossible  to  guess.  But  the  seaman  of  the  last 
generation,  brought  into  sympathy  with  the  cara- 
vels of  ancient  time  by  his  sailing  ship,  their  lineal 
descendant,  cannot  look  upon  those  lumbering 
forms  navigating  the  naive  seas  of  ancient  wood- 
cuts without  a  feeling  of  surprise,  of  aftectionate 
derision,  envy,  and  admiration.  For  those  things, 
whose  unmanageableness,  even  when  represented 
on  paper,  makes  one  gasp  with  a  sort  of  amused 
horror,  were  manned  by  men  who  are  his  direct 
professional  ancestors. 

No  ;  the  seamen  of  three  hundred  years  hence 
will  probably  be  neither  touched  nor  moved  to 
derision,  affection,  or  admiration.  They  will  glance 
at  the  photogravures  of  our  nearly  defunct  sailing- 
ships  with  a  cold,  inquisitive  and  indifferent  eye. 
Our  ships  of  yesterday  will  stand  to  their  ships  as 
no  lineal  ancestors,  but  as  mere  predecessors  whose 


126  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

course  will  have  been  run  and  the  race  extinct. 

Whatever  craft  he  handles  with  skill,  the  seaman 

of  the  future  shall  be,  not  our  descendant,  but  only 

our  successor. 

Joseph  Conrad. 

(From  Sidl  'Oicano) 

"VJON  m'era  mai  parse  cosl  bello  il  Galileo. 
Largo  e  poderoso  ;  ma  le  curve  agili  dei  suoi 
fianchi  e  la  grande  lunghezza  gli  davan  la  grazia 
d'una  gondola  smisurata.  I  suoi  alberi  altissimi, 
congiunti  come  da  una  trama  di  cordanii,  pare- 
vano  fusti  di  gigantesche  palme  diramate,  legate 
da  liane  senza  foglie,  e  le  ampie  bocche  purpuree 
delle  trombe  a  vento  rendevan  I'immagine  di 
colossali  calici  di  fiori,  attirati  dall'America  invece 
che  dal  sole.  I  fianchi  neri  di  catrame  e  severi,  la 
coperta  irta  di  ordigni  di  ferro  e  sorvolata  da 
nuvoli  di  fumo  oscuro ;  ma  questo  aspetto  rude 
di  vasta  officina,  rallegrato  dalle  lance  azzurrine 
librate  sui  parapetti,  dalle  alte  maniche  a  vento 
candide  e  gonfie,  dai  ponti  mobili  spiccanti  nel 
cielo,  da  cento  luccichii  di  metalli,  di  legni,  di 
vetri,  da  mille  oggetti  e  forme  diverse  e  bizzarre, 
che  rappresentano  ciascuna  una  comodit;\,  un'ele- 
ganza,  una  difesa,  un'industria,  una  forza.  E  il 
rumorio  della  macchina,  i  colpi  profondi  del  pro- 
pulsore,  le  piattonate  dell'elice,  il  cigollo  delle 
catena  del  timone,  il  sibilo  del  solcometro,  il  fre- 


EDMONDO    DE    AMICIS  ^2^ 

mito  delle  griselle,  il  tintinnlo  dei  cristalli  sospesi, 
formano  una  musica  diffusa  e  strana,  che  accarezza 
I'orecchio  ed  entra  nell'anima  come  un  linguaggio 
misterioso  di  gente  sparpagliata  e  invisibile,  die  a 
bassa  voce  s'inciti  a  vicenda  al  lavoro  e  alia  lotta. 
La  poppa  sussulta  sotto  i  nostri  piedi  come  la 
carcassa  d'un  corpo  vivo ;  il  colosso  ha  guizzi  im- 
provisi,  dei  quali  non  si  comprende  la  causa,  e  che 
paion  tremiti  di  febbre,  scatti  biuschi  e  senza 
grazia,  che  paiono  atti  di  dispetto,  e  mosse  repli- 
cate di  prua,  che  sembran  gli  scotimenti  d'una 
enorme  testa  che  pensi  ;  e  fila  altre  volte  per 
lunghi  tratti  cosi  fermo  e  pari  sul  mare  agitato, 
che  una  palla  d'avorio  non  si  moverebbe  sulle  sue 
tavole,  e  pare  che  non  lambisca  le  onde.  E  va 
senza  posa,  nella  nebbia,  nelle  tenebre,  contro  il 
vento,  contro  I'onda,  con  un  popolo  sul  dorso,  con 
cinquemila  tonnellate  nel  ventre,  dall'uno  all'  altro 
mondo,  guidato  infallibilmente  da  una  piccola 
spranghetta  d'acciaio  che  puo  servire  a  tagliare  i 
fogli  d'un  libro,  e  da  un  uomo  che  fa  girare  una 
ruota  di  legno  con  un  Icggcro  sforzo  delle  niani. 
Noi  ricorriamo  col  pensicro  la  storia  dclla  navi- 
gazione,  e  risalendo  dal  tronco  d'albcro  alia  zattera, 
dalla  piroga  alia  barca  a  remi,  e  su  su  per  tuttc  le 
forme  dclla  nave  ingranditc  e  fortificate  dai  secoli, 
ci  fermianjo  dinanzi  a  quella  forma  ultima  per 
raffrontaria  alia  prima,  e  il  cuorc  ci  si  gonfia 
d'ammirazionc,  c  ci  domandiamo  quale  altra  opera 


128  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

meccanica  piu  maravigliosa  abbia  compiuto  la  razza 

umana.     Piu    maravigliosa   dell'oceano   che   essa 

rompe   e   divora,    e   alia   cui   minaccia   continua 

risponde   collo    strepito    infaticato   dei    suoi    con- 

gegni : — Tu  sei  immenso,  ma  sei  un  bruto  ;  io  son 

piccolo,  ma  sono  un  genio  ;  tu  separi  i  mondi,  ma 

io  li  lego,  tu  mi  circondi,  ma  io  passo,  tu  sei  stra- 

potente,  ma  io  so. 

Edmondo  de  Afflicts. 

(From  The  Future  in  America) 

TJ'OR  example,  consider  this  last  year's  last  word 
in  ocean  travel  in  which  I  am  crossing,  the 
Carftiania,  with  its  unparalleled  steadfastness,  its 
racing  tireless  great  turbines,  its  vast  population 
of  3244  souls  !  It  has,  on  the  whole,  a  tremendous 
effect  of  having  come  by  fate  and  its  own  forces. 
One  forgets  that  any  one  planned  it,  much  of  it 
indeed  has  so  greatly  the  quality  of  moving,  as  the 
planets  move,  in  the  very  nature  of  things.  You 
go  aft  and  see  the  wake  tailing  away  across  the 
blue  ridges ;  you  go  forward  and  see  the  cleft  water 
lift  protestingly,  roll  back  in  an  indignant  crest, 
own  itself  beaten,  and  go  pouring  by  in  great  foam- 
ing waves  on  either  hand  ;  you  see  nothing,  you 
hear  nothing  of  the  toiling  engines,  the  reeking 
stokers,  the  effort  and  the  stress  below  ;  you  beat 
west  and  west,  as  the  sun  does,  and  it  might  seem 
with  nearly  the  same  independence  of  any  living 


JOHN    MASEFIELD  I  29 

man's  help  or  opposition.  Equally  so  does  it  seem 
this  great  gleaming  confident  thing  of  power  and 
metal  came  inevitably  out  of  the  past,  and  will  lead 
on  to  still  more  shiping,  still  swifter  and  securer 
monsters  in  the  future. 

One  sees  in  a  perspective  of  history,  first  the 
little  cockle-shells  of  Columbus,  the  comings  and 
goings  of  the  precarious  Tudor  adventurers,  the 
slow  uncertain  shipping  of  colonial  days.  .  .  . 

We're  a  city  rather  than  a  ship,  our  funnels  go 
up  over  the  height  of  any  reasonable  church  spire, 
and  you  need  walk  the  main  deck  from  end  to  end 
and  back  only  four  times  to  do  a  mile.  Any  one 
who  has  been  to  London  and  seen  Trafalgar 
Square  will  get  our  dimensions  perfectly  when  he 
realizes  that  we  should  only  squeeze  into  that  finest 
site  in  Europe,  diagonally,  dwarfing  the  National 
Gallery,  St.  Martin's  Church,  hotels,  and  every 
other  building  there  out  of  e.xistence,  our  funnels 
towering    five    feet    higher   than    Nelson    on    his 

^^^""^"-  //.  G.  mils. 

Running  Before  the  Wind        -o        <:i,. 
(From  A  Tarpaulin  MuUer) 

■\A7E  were  at  sea  off  the  River  IMate,  running 

south  like  a  stag.   The  wind  had  been  slowly 

freshening  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  for  one  whole 

day  we  had  whitened  the  sea  like   a   batllcbhip. 

K 


130  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

Our  run  for  the  day  had  been  271  knots,  which  we 
thought  a  wonderful  run,  though  it  has,  of  course, 
been  exceeded  by  many  ships.  For  this  ship  it 
was  an  exceptional  run.  The  wind  was  on  the 
quarter,  her  best  point  of  sailing,  and  there  was 
enough  wind  for  a  glutton.  Our  captain  had  the 
reputation  of  being  a  "  cracker-on,"  and  on  this 
occasion  he  drove  her  till  she  groaned.  For  that 
one  wonderful  day  we  staggered  and  swooped,  and 
bounded  in  wild  leaps,  and  burrowed  down  and 
shivered,  and  anon  rose  up  shaking.  The  wind 
roared  up  aloft  and  boomed  in  the  shrouds,  and 
the  sails  bellied  out  as  stiff  as  iron.  We  tore 
through  the  sea  in  great  jumps — there  is  no  other 
word  for  it.  She  seemed  to  leap  clear  from  one 
green  roaring  ridge  to  come  smashing  down  upon 
the  next.  I  have  been  in  a  fast  steamer — a  very 
fast  turbine  steamer — doing  more  than  twenty 
knots,  but  she  gave  me  no  sense  of  great  speed. 
In  this  old  sailing  ship  the  joy  of  the  hurry  was 
such  that  we  laughed  and  cried  aloud.  The  noise 
of  the  wind  booming,  and  the  clack,  clack,  clack 
of  the  sheet-blocks,  and  the  ridged  seas  roaring 
past  us,  and  the  groaning  and  whining  of  every 
block  and  plank,  were  like  tunes  for  a  dance.  We 
seemed  to  be  tearing  through  it  at  ninety  miles  an 
hour.  Our  wake  whitened  and  broadened,  and 
rushed  away  aft  in  a  creamy  fury.  We  were  run- 
ning here,  and  hurrying  there,  taking  a  small  pull 


JOHN    ^rASEFIELD  I3I 

of  this,  and  getting  another  inch  of  that,  till  we 
were  weary.  But  as  we  hauled  we  sang  and 
shouted.  We  were  possessed  of  the  spirits  of  the 
wind.  We  could  have  danced  and  killed  each 
other.  We  were  in  an  ecstasy.  We  were  pos- 
sessed. We  half  believed  that  the  ship  would  leap 
from  the  waters  and  hurl  herself  into  the  heavens, 
like  a  winged  god.  Over  her  bows  came  the 
sprays  in  showers  of  sparkles.  Her  foresail  was 
wet  to  the  yard.  Her  scuppers  were  brooks.  Her 
swing-ports  spouted  like  cataracts.  Recollect,  too, 
that  it  was  a  day  to  make  your  heart  glad.  It  was 
a  clear  day,  a  sunny  day,  a  day  of  brightness  and 
splendour.  The  sun  was  glorious  in  the  sky.  The 
sky  was  of  a  blue  unspeakable.  We  were  tearing 
along  across  a  splendour  of  sea  that  made  you 
sing.  Far  as  one  could  see  there  was  the 
water — shining  and  shaking.  Blue  it  was,  and 
green  it  was,  and  of  a  dazzling  brilliance  in  the 
sun.  It  rose  up  in  hills  and  in  ridges.  It  smashed 
into  a  foam  and  roared.  It  towered  up  again  and 
toppled.  It  mounted  and  shook  in  a  rhythm,  in  a 
tune,  in  a  music.  One  could  have  flung  one's 
body  to  it  as  a  sacrifice.  One  longed  to  be  in  it,  to 
be  a  part  of  it,  to  be  beaten  and  banged  by  it.  It 
was  a  wonder  and  a  glory  and  a  terror.  It  was  a 
riumpli,  it  was  royal,  to  see  that  beauty. 

John  Miiscfit'Id. 


132  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

A  Day  on  the  Ocean        ^o        <i>.        <;:> 

(From  Captains  Com-ai^vous) 

T^HE  low-sided  schooner  was  naturally  on  most 
intimate  terms  with  her  surroundings.  They 
saw  little  of  the  horizon  save  when  she  topped 
a  swell ;  and  usually  she  was  elbowing,  fidgeting, 
and  coaxing  her  steadfast  way  through  gray,  gray- 
blue,  or  black  hollows  laced  across  and  across 
with  streaks  of  shivering  foam,  or  rubbing  herself 
caressingly  along  the  flank  of  some  bigger  water- 
hill.  It  was  as  if  she  said,  "  You  wouldn't  hurt  me, 
surely.?  I'm  only  the  little  WeVe  Here."  Then 
she  would  slide  away  chuckling  softly  to  herself 
till  she  was  brought  up  by  some  fresh  obstacle. 
The  dullest  of  folk  cannot  see  this  kind  of  thing 
hour  after  hour  through  long  days  without  noticing 
it ;  and  Harvey,  being  anything  but  dull,  began  to 
comprehend  and  enjoy  the  dry  chorus  of  wave- 
tops  turning  over  with  a  sound  of  incessant  tear- 
ing ;  the  hurry  of  the  winds  working  across  open 
spaces  and  herding  the  purple-blue  cloud  shadows ; 
the  splendid  upheaval  of  the  red  sunrise  ;  the  fold- 
ing and  packing  away  of  the  morning  mists,  wall 
after  wall  withdrawn  across  the  white  floors  ;  the 
salty  glare  and  blaze  of  noon  ;  the  kiss  of  rain  fall- 
ing over  thousands  of  dead,  flat  square  miles  ;  the 
chilly  blackening  of  everything  at  the  day's  end  ; 


FERDINAND   MAGELLAN  I  33 

and  the  million  wrinkles  of  the  sea  under  the 
moonlight,  when  the  jib-boom  solemnly  poked  at 
the  low  stars.  .  .  .  Rudyard  Kipling. 

Pains  of  Early  Sea  Travel        ■"O        -^i.- 

(From  A  First  Voyat^e  Roioid  the  World;  Hakluyt  Soc, 
trans. ) 

Y\/EDNESDAY,  the  twenty-eighth  of  Novem- 
ber, 1520,  we  came  forth  out  of  the  said 
strait,  and  entered  into  the  Pacific  sea,  where  we 
remained  three  months  and  twenty  days  without 
taking  in  provisions  or  other  refreshments,  and  we 
only  ate  old  biscuit  reduced  to  powder,  and  full  of 
grubs,  and  stinking  from  the  dirt  which  the  rats 
had  made  on  it  when  eating  the  good  biscuit,  and 
we  drank  water  that  was  yellow  and  stinking.  We 
also  ate  the  ox  hides  which  were  under  the  main- 
yard,  so  that  the  yard  should  not  break  the  rigging  : 
they  were  very  hard  on  account  of  the  sun,  rain, 
and  wind,  and  we  left  them  for  four  or  five  days  in 
the  sea,  and  then  we  put  them  a  little  on  the 
embers,  and  so  ate  them  ;  also  the  sawdust  of 
wood,  and  rats  which  cost  half-a-crown  each, 
moreover  enough  of  them  were  not  to  be  got. 
Besides  the  above-named  evils,  this  misfortune 
which  I  will  mention  was  the  worst,  it  was  that  the 
upper  and  lower  j^ums  of  most  of  our  men  grew  so 
much  that  they  could  not  eat,  and  in  this  way  so 


134  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

many  suffered,  that  nineteen  died,  and  the  other 
giant,  and  an  Indian  from  the  county  of  Verzin. 
Besides  those  who  died,  twenty-five  or  thirty  fell 
ill  of  divers  sicknesses,  both  in  the  arms  and  legs, 
and  other  places,  in  such  manner  that  very  few 
remained  healthy.  However,  thanks  be  to  the 
Lord,  I  had  no  sickness.  During  those  three 
months  and  twenty  days  we  went  in  an  open 
sea,  while  we  ran  fully  four  thousand  leagues  in 
the  Pacific  sea.  This  was  well  named  Pacific,  for 
during  this  same  time  we  met  with  no  storm,  and 
saw  no  land  except  two  small  uninhabited  islands, 
in  which  we  found  only  birds  and  trees.  We 
named  them  the  Unfortunate  Islands  ;  they  are 
two  hundred  leagues  apart  from  one  another,  and 
there  is  no  place  to  anchor,  as  there  is  no  bottom. 
There  we  saw  many  sharks,  which  are  a  kind  of 
large  fish  which  they  call  Tiburoni.  The  first  isle 
is  in  fifteen  degrees  of  austral  latitude,  and  the 
other  is  in  nine  degrees.  With  the  said  wind  we 
ran  each  day  fifty  or  sixty  leagues,  or  more  ;  now 
with  the  wind  astern,  sometimes  on  a  wind  or 
otherwise.  And  if  our  Lord  and  his  Mother  had 
not  aided  us  in  giving  us  good  weather  to  refresh 
ourselves  with  provisions  and  other  thmgs,  we 
should  all  have  died  of  hunger  in  this  very  vast 
sea,  and  I  think  that  never  man  will  undertake  to 
perform  such  a  voyage. 

Ferdinand  Mui^-elhm. 


WASHINGTON    IRVING  1 35 

Charm  of  a  Sea  Voyage        -;2>'        ^o 
(From  The  Sketch  Book) 

T  SAID  that  at  sea  all  is  vacancy  ;  I  should  cor- 
rect the  expression.  To  one  given  to  day- 
dreaming, and  fond  of  losing  himself  in  reveries,  a 
sea  voyage  is  full  of  subjects  of  meditation  ;  but 
then  they  are  the  wonders  of  the  deep  and  of  the 
air,  and  rather  tend  to  abstract  the  mind  from 
worldly  themes.  I  delighted  to  loll  over  the 
quarter-railing,  or  climb  to  the  main-top,  of  a 
calm  day,  and  muse  for  hours  together  on  the 
tranquil  bosom  of  a  summer's  sea ;  to  gaze  upon 
the  piles  of  golden  clouds  just  peering  above  the 
horizon,  fancy  them  some  fairy  realms,  and  people 
them  with  a  creation  of  my  own  ; — to  watch  the 
gentle  undulating  billows,  rolling  their  silver 
volumes,  as  if  to  die  away  on  those  happy  shores. 
There  was  a  delicious  sensation  of  mingled 
security  and  awe  with  which  I  looked  down,  from 
my  giddy  height,  on  the  monsters  of  the  deep  at 
their  uncouth  gambols.  Shoals  of  porpoises  tum- 
bling about  the  bow  of  the  ship  ;  the  grampus 
slowly  heaving  his  huge  form  alwve  the  surface  ; 
or  the  ravenous  shark,  darling,  like  a  spectre, 
through  the  blue  waters.  My  imagination  would 
conjure  up  all  that  I  had  heard  or  read  of  the 
watery  world  beneath  me ;  of  the  finny  herds  that 


136  THE   CALL   OF    THE   SEA 

roam  its  fathomless  valleys  ;  of  the  shapeless 
monsters  that  lurk  among  the  very  foundations 
of  the  earth  ;  and  of  those  wild  phantasms  that 
swell  the  tales  of  fishermen  and  sailors.  .  .  . 

We  one  day  descried  some  shapeless  object 
drifting  at  a  distance.  At  sea  everything  that 
breaks  the  monotony  of  the  surrounding  expanse 
attracts  attention.  It  proved  to  be  the  mast  of  a 
ship  that  must  have  been  completely  wrecked,  for 
there  were  remains  of  handkerchiefs  by  which 
some  of  the  crew  had  fastened  themselves  to  this 
spar,  to  prevent  themselves  being  washed  off  by 
the  waves.  There  was  no  trace  by  which  the 
name  of  the  ship  could  be  ascertained.  The 
wreck  had  evidently  drifted  about  for  many 
months  ;  clusters  of  shellfish  had  fastened  about 
it,  and  long  seaweeds  flaunted  at  its  sides. 

Washington  Irving. 

Life  on  Board  Ship        ^^;:>'        '^^^        o 

(From  The  Voyage  of  H. M.S.  ''Beagle'') 

IX/TANY  of  the  losses  which  must  be  experienced 
are  obvious  ;  such  as  that  of  the  society  of 
every  old  friend,  and  of  the  sight  of  those  places 
with  which  every  dearest  remembrance  is  so  in- 
timately connected.  These  losses,  however,  are  at 
the  time  partly  relieved  by  the  exhaustless  delight 
of  anticipating  the  long  wished-for  day  of  return. 


CHARLES    DARWIN  I  37 

If,  as  poets  say,  life  is  a  dream,  I  am  sure  in  a 
voyage  these  are  the  visions  which  best  serve  to 
pass  away  the  long  night.  Other  losses,  although 
not  at  first  felt,  tell  heavily  after  a  period  :  these 
are  the  want  of  room,  of  seclusion,  of  rest ;  the 
jading  feeling  of  constant  hurry  ;  the  privation  of 
small  luxuries,  the  loss  of  domestic  society,  and 
even  of  music  and  the  other  pleasures  of  imagina- 
tion. When  such  trifles  are  mentioned,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  real  grievances,  excepting  from 
accidents,  of  a  sea-life  are  at  an  end.  The  short 
space  of  sixty  years  has  made  an  astonishing  differ- 
ence in  the  facility  of  distant  navigation.  Even  in 
the  time  of  Cook,  a  man  who  left  his  fireside  for 
such  expeditions  underwent  severe  privations.  A 
yacht  now,  with  every  luxury  of  life,  can  circum- 
navigate the  globe.  Resides  the  vast  improve- 
ments in  ships  and  naval  resources,  the  whole 
western  shores  of  America  are  thrown  open,  and 
Australia  has  become  the  capital  of  a  rising  con- 
tinent. How  different  are  the  circumstances  to  a 
man  shipwrecked  at  the  present  day  in  the  Pacific, 
to  what  they  were  in  the  time  of  Cook  !  Since 
his  voyage  a  hemisphere  has  been  added  to  the 
civilised  world. 

If  a  person  suffers  much  from  sea-sickness,  let 
him  weigh  it  heavily  in  the  l>:iiiince.  I  speak  from 
experience  :  it  is  no  trifling  c\  il,  cured  in  a  week. 


138  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

If,  on  the  Other  hand,  he  takes  pleasure  in  naval 
tactics,  he  will  assuredly  have  full  scope  for  his 
taste.  But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  how  large  a 
proportion  of  the  time,  during  a  long  voyage,  is 
spent  on  the  water,  as  compared  with  the  days  in 
harbour.  And  what  are  the  boasted  glories  of  the 
illimitable  ocean  ?  A  tedious  waste,  a  desert  of 
water,  as  the  Arabian  calls  it.  No  doubt  there  are 
some  delightful  scenes.  A  moonlight  night,  with 
the  clear  heavens  and  the  dark  glittering  sea,  and 
the  white  sails  filled  by  the  soft  air  of  a  gently- 
blowing  trade-wind ;  a  dead  calm,  with  the  heaving 
surface  polished  like  a  mirror,  and  all  still  except 
the  occasional  flapping  of  the  canvas.  It  is  well 
once  to  behold  a  squall  with  its  rising  arch  and 
coming  fury,  or  the  heavy  gale  of  v/ind  and  moun- 
tainous waves.  I  confess,  however,  my  imagina- 
tion had  painted  something  more  grand,  more 
terrific,  in  the  full-grown  storm.  It  is  an  incom- 
parably finer  spectacle  when  beheld  on  shore, 
where  the  waving  trees,  the  wild  flight  of  the 
birds,  the  dark  shadows  and  bright  lights,  the 
rushing  of  the  torrents,  all  proclaim  the  strife  of 
the  unloosed  elements.  At  sea  the  albatross  and 
little  petrel  fly  as  if  the  storm  were  their  proper 
sphere,  the  water  rises  and  sinks  as  if  fulfilling  its 
usual  task,  the  ship  alone  and  its  inhabitants  seem 
the  objects  of  wrath.  On  a  forlorn  and  weather- 
beaten  coast  the  scene  is  indeed  different,  but  the 


CHARLES    DICKENS  139 

feelings  partake  more  of  horror  than  of  wild  de- 
light. 

Charles  Darwin. 


The  Channel  Crossing        <o        ■<2b>' 

(From  The  Uncommercial  Traveller) 

'HP  HE  wind  blows  stiffly  from  the  Nor'-East,  the 
sea  runs  high,  we  ship  a  deal  of  water,  the 
night  is  dark  and  cold,  and  the  shapeless  pas- 
sengers lie  about  in  melancholy  bundles,  as  if  they 
were  sorted  out  for  the  laundress  ;  but  for  my  own 
uncommercial  part  I  cannot  pretend  that  I  am 
much  inconvenienced  by  any  of  these  things.  A 
general  howling,  whistling,  flopping,  gurgling,  and 
scooping,  I  am  aware  of,  and  a  general  knocking 
about  of  Nature;  but  the  impressions  I  receive  are 
very  vague.  In  a  sweet  faint  temper,  something 
like  the  smell  of  damaged  oranges,  I  think  I  should 
feel  languidly  benevolent  if  I  had  time.  I  have 
not  time,  because  I  am  under  a  curious  compul- 
sion to  occupy  myself  with  the  Irish  melodies. 
"Rich  and  rare  were  the  gems  she  wore,"  is  the 
particular  melody  to  which  I  find  myself  devoted. 
I  sing  it  to  myself  in  the  most  charming  manner 
and  with  the  greatest  expression.  Now  and  then 
I  raise  my  head  (I  am  sitting  on  the  hardest  of  wet 
seats,  in  the  most  uncomfortable  of  wet  attitudes, 
but  I  don't  mind  it),  and  notice  that  I  am  a  whirl- 


140  THE   CALL   OI'    THE   SEA 

ing  shuttlecock  between  a  fiery  battledore  of  a 
lighthouse  on  the  French  coast  and  a  fiery  battle- 
dore of  a  lighthouse  on  the  English  coast ;  but 
I  don't  notice  it  particularly,  except  to  feel  en- 
venomed in  my  hatred  of  Calais.  Then  I  go  on 
again,  "  Rich  and  rare  were  the  ge-ems  she-e-e-e 
wore,  And  a  bright  gold  ring  on  her  wa-and  she 
bo-ore,  But  O  her  beauty  was  fa-a-a-a-r  beyond  " — 
I  am  particularly  proud  of  my  execution  here, 
when  I  become  aware  of  another  awkward  shock 
from  the  sea,  and  another  protest  from  the  funnel, 
and  a  fellow-creature  at  the  paddle-box  more 
audibly  indisposed  than  I  think  he  need  be — "  Her 
sparkling  gems,  or  snow-white  wand,  But  O  her 
beauty  was  fa-a-a-a-a-r  beyond" — another  awk- 
ward one  here,  and  the  fellow -creature  with 
umbrella  down  and  picked  up,  "  Her  spa-a-rkling 
ge-ems,  or  her  Port !  port !  steady  !  steady  !  snow- 
white  fellow-creature  at  the  paddle-box  veiy  sel- 
fishly audible,  bump  roar  wash  white  wand." 

As  my  execution  of  the  Irish  melodies  partakes 
of  my  imperfect  perceptions  of  what  is  going  on 
around  me,  so  what  is  going  on  around  me  be- 
comes something  else  than  what  it  is.  The  stokers 
open  the  furnace  doors  below,  to  feed  the  fires, 
and  I  am  again  on  the  box  of  the  old  Exeter  Tele- 
graph fast  coach,  and  that  is  the  light  of  the  for 
ever  extinguished  coach-lamps,  and  the  gleam  on 


CHARLES    DICKENS  14I 

the  hatches  and  paddle-boxes  is  their  gleam  on 
cottages  and  haystacks,  and  the  monotonous  noise 
of  the  engines  is  the  steady  jingle  of  the  splendid 
team.  Anon,  the  intermittent  funnel  roar  of  pro- 
test at  every  violent  roll,  becomes  the  regular  blast 
of  a  high  pressure  engine,  and  I  recognise  the  ex- 
ceedingly explosive  steamer  in  which  I  ascended 
the  Mississippi  when  the  American  civil  war  was 
not,  and  when  only  its  causes  were.  A  fragment 
of  mast  on  which  the  light  of  a  lantern  falls,  an 
end  of  rope,  and  a  jerking  block  or  so,  become 
suggestive  of  Franconi's  Circus  at  Paris  where  I 
shall  be  this  very  night  mayhap  (for  it  must  be 
morning  now),  and  they  dance  to  the  self-same 
time  and  tune  as  the  trained  steed,  Black  Raven. 
What  may  be  the  speciality  of  these  waves  as  they 
come  rushing  on,  I  cannot  desert  the  pressing  de- 
mands made  upon  me  by  the  gems  she  wore  to 
inquire,  but  they  are  charged  with  something 
about  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  I  think  it  was  in  Yar- 
mouth Roads  that  he  first  went  a-scafaring  and 
was  near  foundering  (what  a  terrific  sound  that 
word  had  for  mc  when  I  was  a  boy  1)  in  his  first 
gale  of  wind.  Still,  through  all  this,  I  must  ask 
her  (who  was  she,  I  wonder  !)  for  the  fiftieth  time, 
and  without  ever  stopping,  Docs  she  not  fear  to 
stray,  So  lone  and  lovely  through  this  bleak  way. 
And  arc  Erin's  sons  so  good  or  so  cold,  As  not  to 
be  tempted  by  more  fellow-creatures  at  the  paddle- 


142  THR   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

box  or  gold?  Sir  Knight,  I  feel  not  the  least 
alarm,  No  son  of  Erin  will  offer  me  harm,  For 
though  they  love  fellow-creature  with  umbrella 
down  again  and  golden  store.  Sir  Knight  they 
what  a  tremendous  one  love  honour  and  virtue 
more  :  For  though  they  love  Stewards  with  a  bull's 
eye  bright,  they'll  trouble  you  for  your  ticket,  sir — 
rough  passage  to-night ! 

I  freely  admit  it  to  be  a  miserable  piece  of 
human  weakness  and  inconsistency,  but  I  no 
sooner  became  conscious  of  those  last  words  from 
the  steward  than  I  began  to  soften  towards  Calais. 
Whereas  I  have  been  vindictively  wishing  that 
those  Calais  burghers  who  came  out  of  their  town 
by  a  short  cut  into  the  History  of  England,  with 
those  fatal  ropes  round  their  necks  by  which  they 
have  since  been  towed  into  so  many  cartoons,  had 
all  been  hanged  on  the  spot,  I  now  begin  to  regard 
them  as  highly  respectable  and  virtuous  trades- 
men. Looking  about  me,  I  see  the  light  of  Cape 
Grisnez  well  astern  of  the  boat  on  the  davits  to 
leeward,  and  the  light  of  Calais  Harbour  un- 
deniably at  its  old  tricks,  but  still  ahead  and 
shining.  Sentiments  of  forgiveness  of  Calais,  not 
to  say  of  attachment  to  Calais,  begin  to  expand 
my  bosom.  I  have  weak  notions  that  I  will  stay 
there  a  day  or  two  on  my  way  back.  A  faded  and 
recumbent  stranger  pausing  in  a  profound  reverie 
over  the  rim  of  a  basin,  asks  me  what  kind  of 


CHARLES   DICKENS  1 43 

a  place  Calais  is  ?  I  tell  him  (Heaven  forgive  me !) 
a  very  agreeable  place  indeed— rather  hilly  than 
otherwise. 

So  strangely  goes  the  time,  and  on  the  whole  so 
quickly — though  still  I  seem  to  have  been  on 
board  a  week — that  I  am  bumped,  rolled,  gurgled, 
washed,  and  pitched  into  Calais  Harbour  before 
her  maiden  smile  has  finally  lighted  her  through 
the  Green  Isle,  When  blest  for  ever  is  she  who  re- 
lied, On  entering  Calais  at  the  top  of  the  tide. 
For  we  have  not  to  land  to-night  down  among 
those  slimy  timbers — covered  wiili  green  hair  as  if 
it  were  the  mermaid's  favourite  combing-place — 
where  one  crawls  to  the  surface  of  the  jetty,  like  a 
stranded  shrimp,  but  we  go  steaming  up  the  har- 
bour to  the  Railway  Station  Quay.  And  as  we  go, 
she  washes  in  and  out  among  piles  and  planks, 
with  dead  heavy  beats  and  in  quite  a  furious 
manner  (whereof  we  are  proud),  and  the  lamps 
shake  in  the  wind,  and  the  bells  of  Calais  striking 
one  seem  to  send  their  vibrations  struggling 
against  troubled  air,  as  we  have  come  struggling 
against  troubled  water.  And  now,  in  the  sudden 
relief  and  wiping  of  faces,  everybody  on  Ijoard 
seems  to  have  had  a  jirodigious  double-tooth  out, 
and  to  be  this  very  instant  free  of  the  dentist's 
hands.  And  now  we  all  know  for  the  first  lime 
how  wet  and  cold  we  arc,  and  how  salt  we  are  ; 
and  now  1  love  Calais  with  my  heart  of  hearts! 

Chillies  Dickens. 


144  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 


(From  Jon-Oiks' s  Jaunts  and  Jollities) 

TVrONE  but  the  natives  of  Dover  can  tell  what 
the  weather  is,  unless  the  wind  comes  directly 
off  the  sea,  and  it  was  not  until  Mr.  Jorrocks  pro- 
ceeded to  embark,  after  breakfast  the  next  morn- 
ing, that  he  ascertained  there  was  a  heavy  swell 
on,  so  quiet  had  the  heights  kept  the  gambols  of 
Boreas.  Three  steamers  were  simmering  into 
action  on  the  London  Hotel  side  of  the  harbour, 
in  one  of  which— the  Royal  George — two  britchkas 
and  barouche  were  lashed  ready  for  sea,  while  the 
custom-house  porters  were  trundling  barrows  full 
of  luggage  under  the  personal  superintendence  of 
a  little  shock-headed  French  commissionaire  of 
Mr.  Wright's  in  a  gold-laced  cap,  and  the  other 
gentry  of  the  same  profession  from  the  different 
inns.  .  .  . 

A  voyage  is  to  many  people  like  taking  an 
emetic — they  look  at  the  medicine  and  wish  it  well 
over,  and  look  at  the  sea  and  wish  themselves  well 
over.  Everything  looked  bright  and  gay  at  Dover 
— the  cliffs  seemed  whiter  than  ever — the  sailors 
had  on  clean  trousers,  and  the  few  people  that 
appeared  in  the  streets  were  dressed  in  their 
Sunday  best.  The  cart-horses  were  seen  feeding 
leisurely  on  the  hills,  and  there  was  a  placid  calm- 
ness about  everything  on  shore,  which  the  travel- 
lers would  fain  have  extended  to  the  sea.     They 


ROBERT  SMITH  SURTKES        145 

came  slowly  and  solemnly  upon  deck,  muffled  up 
in  cloaks  and  coats,  some  with  their  passage- 
money  in  their  hands,  and  took  their  places  ap- 
parently with  the  full  expectation  of  being  sick. 

The  P'rench  packet-boat  first  gave  symptoms  of 
animation,  in  the  shape  of  a  few  vigorous  puffs 
from  the  boiler,  which  were  responded  to  by  the 
Royal  George,  whose  rope  was  slipped  without  the 
usual  tinkle  of  the  bell,  and  she  shot  out  to  sea, 
closely  followed  by  the  Frenchman,  who  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  other  English  boat.  Three  or  four 
tremendous  long  protracted  dives,  each  followed 
by  a  majestic  rise  on  the  bosom  of  the  waves,  de- 
noted the  crossing  of  the  bar ;  and  just  as  the 
creaking  of  the  cordage,  the  flapping  of  the  sails, 
and  the  nervous  quivering  of  the  paddles,  as  they 
lost  their  hold  of  the  water,  were  in  full  vigour,  the 
mate  crossed  the  deck  with  a  large  white  basin  in 
his  hand,  the  sight  of  which  turned  the  stomachs 
of  half  the  passengers.  Who  shall  describe  the 
misery  that  ensued  ?  The  groans  and  moans  of 
the  sufferers  increasing  every  minute,  as  the  vessel 
heaved  and  dived,  and  rolled  and  creaked,  while 
hand -basins  multiplied  as  half- sick  passengers 
caught  the  green  countenance  and  fixed  eye  of 
some  prostrate  sufferer,  and  were  overcome  them- 
selves. .  .  . 

"Mew,  view"  screamed  the  sea-gulls  ; — '■'■creak, 
creak"  went  the  cordage  -'■''flop,  flop"  went  the 
L 


146  THE    CAM,    OF    THE    SEA 

sails ;  round  went  the  white  basins,  and  the 
steward  with  the  mop  ;  and  few  passengers  would 
have  cared  to  have  gone  overboard,  when  at  the 
end  of  three  hours'  misery,  the  captain  proclaimed 
that  they  were  running  into  still  water  off  Bou- 
logne. 

Robert  S'tnilh  Surtees. 

The  Atlantic  Passage        ^i.-        'C^,- 

(From  American  Notes) 

A  HEAD-WIND  !  Imagine  a  human  face  upon 
the  vessel's  prow,  with  fifteen  thousand  Sam- 
sons in  one  bent  upon  driving  her  back,  and  hitting 
her  exactly  between  the  eyes  whenever  she  attempts 
to  advance  an  inch.  Imagine  the  ship  herself,  with 
every  pulse  and  artery  of  her  huge  body  swollen 
and  bursting  under  this  maltreatment,  sworn  to  go 
on  or  die.  Imagine  the  wind  howling,  the  sea 
roaring,  the  rain  beating :  all  in  furious  array 
against  her.  Picture  the  sky  both  dark  and  wild, 
and  the  clouds  in  fearful  sympathy  with  the  waves, 
making  another  ocean  in  the  air.  Add  to  all  this, 
the  clattering  on  deck  and  down  below  ;  the  tread 
of  hurried  feet ;  the  loud  hoarse  shouts  of  seamen  ; 
the  gurgling  in  and  out  of  water  through  the  scup- 
pers ;  with,  every  now  and  then,  the  striking  of  a 
heavy  sea  upon  the  planks  above,  and  the  deep> 
dead,    heavy    sound   of  thunder   heard   within   a 


CHARLES    DICKENS  147 

vault ; — and  there  is  the  head-wind  of  that  January 
morning.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  But  what  the  agitation  of  a  steam-vessel  is, 
on  a  bad  winter's  night  in  the  wild  Atlantic,  it  is 
impossible  for  the  most  vivid  imagination  to  con- 
ceive. To  say  that  she  is  flung  down  on  her  side 
in  the  waves,  with  her  masts  dipping  into  them, 
and  that,  springing  up  again,  she  rolls  over  on  the 
other  side,  until  a  heavy  sea  strikes  her  with  the 
noise  of  a  hundred  great  guns,  and  hurls  her  back 
— that  she  stops,  and  staggers,  and  shivers,  as 
though  stunned,  and  then,  with  a  violent  throb- 
ping  at  her  heart,  darts  onward  like  a  monster 
goaded  into  madness,  to  be  beaten  down,  and 
battered,  and  crushed,  and  leaped  on  by  the  angry 
sea — that  thunder,  lightning,  hail,  and  rain,  and 
wind,  are  all  in  fierce  contention  for  the  mastery — 
that  every  plank  has  its  groan,  every  nail  its  shriek, 
and  every  drop  of  water  in  the  great  ocean  its  howl- 
ing voice — is  nothing.  To  say  that  all  is  grand, 
and  all  appalling  and  horrible  in  the  last  degree, 
is  nothing.  Words  cannot  express  it.  Thoughts 
cannot  convey  it.  Only  a  dream  can  call  it  up 
again,  in  all  its  fury,  rage,  and  passion. 

Charles  Dickens. 


148  THE   CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

Leaving'  the  Thames        -<c^        ■<o 

(From  The  Other  Side  of  the  Lantern) 

'HP  HE  Thames  creeps  from  under  the  fog,  as  if  it 
came  forth  from  a  tunnel.  Here  at  Tilbury  it 
is  a  villainous  tramp  of  a  river.  Dirty,  sullen,  and 
strong,  it  lurches  down  to  the  sea.  It  seems  to 
revel  in  its  dirtiness,  for  every  eddy  it  turns  up 
brings  from  the  depths  fresh  realisations  of  a 
deeper  dirt.  It  rubs  its  muddy  shoulders  along 
the  shrinking  banks,  so  that  they  are  soiled  by  its 
touch.  Mud  and  mist  replace  the  glories  of  stream 
and  sky.  Where  there  may  have  been  fields  trod- 
den by  leisurely  folk,  with  stiles  for  them  to  rest  at 
and  hedgerows  for  them  to  make  love  among,  there 
are  gullies  and  dykes  of  slime,  a  village  of  dismal 
sheds,  and  a  spinney  of  cranes  and  derricks.  The 
very  grass,  struggling  up  among  ashes  and  rusting 
iron,  looks  lean  and  dissipated. 

All  this  is  the  outcome  of  man's  enterprise  and 
industry.  The  huge,  beery  ogre  of  labour,  dirty 
and  sweating"  from  his  work,  has  thrown  himself 
down  in  the  lady's  garden,  and  the  lilies  and  the 
roses  are  crushed  and  sullied  by  his  inconsiderate 
form. 

In  the  background  towards  London  there  rises 
in  the  mist,  beyond  a  palisade  of  masts,  a  forest  of 
chimneys  with  foliage  of  smoke.     Ships  seem  to  be 


JOHN    MACGREGOR  149 

Standing  on  dry  land,  and  factories  to  be  floating 
on  the  river.  Spars  and  rigging,  which  have 
hummed  with  the  bright  wind  of  the  Indies,  hang 
over  rows  of  callous  houses.  Here  and  there  is  a 
puff  of  red  flame  from  a  furnace  door — a  will  o'  the 
wisp  in  a  mist  of  soot. 

The  stream  would  appear  to  come  from  a  Pur- 
gatorio  of  labour,  from  some  spectral  workshop  in 
which  there  is  no  rest  from  the  dulness  of  eternal 
toil.  Yet  there  is  something  about  the  place  char- 
acteristic of  England,  of  the  obstinate  energy  of 
the  race,  and  of  its  brutal  disregard  of  all  obstacles 
physical,  moral,  or  aesthetic  when  work  is  to  be 
done  or  money  is  to  be  made. 

The  steamer  swings  at  last  towards  the  sea,  and 
her  long  journey  is  begun.  The  chilled  dock  quay 
is  deserted  save  to  a  few  men  who  are  languidly 
dragging  in  wet  ropes,  and  a  few  others  who  are 
absorbed  in  what  .Stevenson  calls  that  "richest 
form  of  idleness — hanging  about  harbour  sides." 

Sir  F.  Treves. 

A  Canoe  at  Sea        ''^r^        ^^:i' 

(From  The  **/<ob  Koy"  on  the  Jordan) 
A  T  Alexandria  once  more  we  launched  the  Rob 
■^^  Roy  to  embark  her  on  board  the  Delti^  bound 
for  home.     Farther  out,  and  tossing  in  a  gallant 
breeze,  was  the  Ariiulnc  frigate,  the  sea  home  of 


150  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

our  Commodore,  and  of  that  fair  Princess  who  has 
won  from  all  Englishmen  the  hardest  thing  to  win, 
our  affectionate  regard. 

The  waves  tossed  angry  and  boisterous  as  the 
Rob  Roy  ran  out  among  the  sharks  to  salute  the 
Royal  yacht. 

The  crew  clustered  thick  in  the  rigging  of  the 
stately  frigate,  and  cheered  the  tiny  consort  with 
goodwill. 

"  Turn  round  before  the  wind,"  they  cried,  "  and 
show  how  you  can  go." 

It  was  a  moment  both  of  pride  and  of  fear  to 
me  :  pride  in  the  craft  that  could  finish  such  a 
voyage,  and  fear  lest  the  finish  was  to  be  in  a  cap- 
size. But  the  Rob  Roy  blithely  turned  upon  a  wave 
top  and  flew  along  the  foam,  and  carried  safe 
through  all  her  little  flag,  and  a  heart  that  beat 
high  with  grateful  praise  to  Him  who  had  vouch- 
safed to  me  thus  to  enjoy  one  of  the  happiest  days 

of  a  very  happy  life. 

John  Macgregor. 


VII 
LIFE    IN    THE   SEA 


We  can  scarcely  poke  or  pry  for  an  hour  among  the 
rocks,  at  low-water  mark,  or  walk,  with  an  observant 
downcast  eye,  along-  the  beach  after  a  pale,  without  find- 
ing- some  oddly-fashioned,  suspicious-looking  being,  un- 
like any  form  of  life  that  we  have  seen  before.  The 
dark  concealed  interior  of  the  sea  becomes  thus  invested 
with  a  fresh  mystery ;  its  vast  recesses  appear  to  be 
stored  with  all  imaginable  forms  ;  and  we  are  tempted  to 
think  there  must  be  multitudes  of  living  creatures  whose 
very  figure  and  structure  have  never  yet  been  suspected, 

Philip  Gosse  (from   77ze  Aquariu7n). 


Variety  of  Types        ^^^^        'Qy        ^o 

( From  the  Natural  History  ;  trans. ) 

OUT  in  the  seas,  spread  out  as  they  are  far  and 
wide,  forming  an  element  at  once  so  deli- 
cate and  so  vivifying,  and  receiving  the  generating 
principles  from  the  regions  of  the  air,  as  they  are 
ever  produced  by  Nature,  many  animals  are  to  be 
found,  and  indeed,  most  of  those  that  are  of  mon- 
strous form ;  from  the  fact,  no  doubt,  that  these 
seeds  and  first  principles  of  being  are  so  utterly 
conglomerated  and  so  involved,  the  one  with  the 
other,  from  being  whirled  to  and  fro,  now  by  the 
action  of  the  winds  and  now  by  the  waves.  Hence 
it  is  that  the  vulgar  notion  may  very  possibly  be 
true,  that  whatever  is  produced  in  any  other  de- 
partment of  Nature,  is  to  be  found  in  the  sea  as 
well  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  many  other  produc- 
tions are  there  to  be  found  which  nowhere  else 
exist.  That  tliere  are  to  be  found  in  the  sea  the 
forms,  not  only  of  terrcstial  animals,  but  of  inani- 
mate objects  even,  is  easily  to  be  understood  by 
all  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  examine  the  grape- 
fish,  the  sword-fish,  the  saw-fish,  and  the  cucumber- 
fish,  which  last  so  strongly  resembles  the  real 
cucumber  both  in  colour  and  in  smell.     \Vc  shall 

«S3 


154  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

find  the  less  reason,  then,  to  be  surprised  to  find 
that  in  so  small  an  object  as  a  shell-fish  the  head 
of  the  horse  is  to  be  seen  protruding  from  the 
shell. 

Pliny. 

Bonitoes  and  Flying  Fish        ^civ        ^;:> 

(From  the  Voyages) 

'T^HERE  be  also  of  sea  fishes  which  wee  savve 
comming  along  the  coast  flying,  which  are  of 
the  bignesse  of  a  smelt,  the  biggest  sorte  whereof 
haue  four  winges,  but  the  other  haue  but  two.  Of 
these  we  sawe  comming  out  of  Guinea,  a  hun- 
dreth  in  a  companie,  which  being  chased  by  the 
Gilt  heads,  otherwise  called  the  Bonitoes,  doe  to 
auoide  them  the  better  take  their  flight  out  of  the 
water,  but  yet  are  they  not  able  to  flie  farre,  be- 
cause of  the  drying  of  their  winges,  which  serue 
them  not  to  flye  but  when  they  are  moyste,  and 
therefore  when  they  can  flye  no  further  fan  into 
the  water,  and  hauing  wette  their  winges  take  a 
newe  flight  againe.  These  Bonitoes  be  of  bignesse 
like  a  carpe,  and  in  colour  like  a  mackarell,  but  it 
is  the  swiftest  fish  in  swimming  that  is,  and  follow- 
eth  her  praye  very  fiercely  not  onely  in  the  water, 
but  also  out  of  the  water :  for  as  the  flying  fish 
taketh  her  flight,  so  doeth  this  Bonitoe  leape  after 
them,  and  taketh  them  sometime  aboue  the  water. 


J.    HAWKINS  155 

They  were  some  of  those  Bonitoes,  which  being 
galled  by  a  fisgig  did  follow  our  ship  coinming  out 
of  Guinea  500  leagues. 

There  is  a  sea  foule  also  that  chaseth  this  flying 
fish  as  wel  as  the  Bonito  :  for  as  the  flying  fish 
taketh  her  flight,  so  doth  this  foule  pursue  to  take 
her,  which  to  beholde  is  a  greater  pleasure  than 
hauking,  for  both  the  flights  are  as  pleasant,  and 
also  more  often  then  100  times  :  for  the  foule  can 
flie  no  way  but  one  or  other  lighteth  in  her  pawes, 
the  nomber  of  them  are  so  abundant.  There  is  an 
innumerable  yonge  frie  of  these  flying  fishes  which 
commonly  keepe  about  the  shippe,  and  are  not  so 
big  as  butterflies,  and  yet  by  flying  doe  auoyde 
the  vnsatiablenesse  of  the  Bonito.  Of  the  bigger 
sort  of  these  fishes,  we  tooke  many,  which  both 
night  and  day  flew  into  the  sailes  of  our  shippe, 
and  there  was  not  one  of  them  which  was  not 
worth  a  Bonito  :  for  being  put  vpon  a  hooke  drab- 
ling  in  the  water,  the  Bonito  would  leape  thereat, 
and  so  was  taken.  Also,  we  tooke  many  with  a 
white  clothe  made  fa<t  to  a  hooke,  which  being 
tied  so  short  in  the  water,  that  it  might  leape  out, 
and  in,  the  greedie  Bonito  thinking  it  to  be  a  flying 
fish  leapeth  thereat,  and  is  deceiued.  .  .  . 

The  manner  of  liunting  and  hawking  rci)rcsent- 
cth  that  which  we  reasonable  creatures  use,  saving 
oncly  in  the  disposing  of  th'-.  game.  For  by  our 
industry   and    abilitie    the    hound    and    liawkc   is 


156  THE    CALL    OV    THK    SEA 

brought  to  that  obedience,  that  whatever  they 
seize  is  for  their  master :  but  here  it  is  otherwise  : 
for  the  game  is  for  him  that  seizeth  it  The  dol- 
phins and  bonitoes  are  the  houndes,  and  the 
alcatraces  the  hawkes,  and  the  flying  fishes  the 
game  ;  whose  wonderful!  making  magnifieth  the 
Creator,  who  for  their  safetie  and  helpe,  hath  given 
them  extraordinary  manner  of  fynnes,  which  serve 
in  stead  of  wings,  like  those  of  the  batt  or  rere- 
mouse  ;  of  such  a  delicate  skinne,  interlaced  with 
small  bones  so  curiously,  as  may  well  cause  ad- 
miration in  the  beholders.  They  are  like  unto 
pilchards  in  colour,  and  making  ;  saving  that  they 
are  somewhat  rounder,  and  (for  the  most  part) 
bigger.  They  flie  best  with  a  side  wind,  but 
longer  then  their  wings  be  wett  they  cannot  sus- 
taine  the  waight  of  their  bodies  ;  and  so  the 
greatest  flight  that  I  have  seene  them  make,  hath 
not  beene  above  a  quarter  of  a  myle.  They 
commonly  goe  in  scoles,  and  serve  for  food  for  the 
greater  fishes,  or  for  the  foules.  The  dolphins  and 
bonitos  doe  continually  hunt  after  them,  and  the 
alcatraces  lye  soaring  in  the  ayre,  to  see  when 
they  spring,  or  take  their  flight ;  and  ordinarily,  he 
that  escapeth  the  mouth  of  the  dolphin  or  bonito, 
helping  himselfe  by  his  wings,  falleth  prisoner  into 
the  hands  of  the  alcatrace,  and  helpeth  to  fill  his 

gorge. 

y.  Hawkins. 


FRANgOISE    PYRARD  1 57 

(From  the  Voj'a^e;  Hakluyt  Soc. ,  trans.) 
TT  ERE  you  see  a  strange  quantity  of  fish,  about 
as  big  as  those  called  mullet,  which  have 
wings  like  bats,  by  means  of  which,  when  pursued 
by  the  larger  fish,  they  dart  out  of  the  water  and 
fly  a  long  way  until  their  wings  are  dry.  So,  on 
the  other  hand,  when  they  are  in  the  air,  the  sea 
birds,  of  which  there  is  a  vast  multitude,  give  them 
chase  and  catch  them,  unless  they  first  regain  the 
sea.  Many  of  them  fell  on  our  ships,  and  when 
once  they  fall  on  something  hard  where  there  is 
no  water,  they  cannot  raise  themselves  again. 
Thus  we  got  some  fresh  food  (and  much  pleasure 
too  in  watching  the  chase),  for  this  fish  is  delicate 
and  good  eating.  But  it  was  a  marvellous  sight  to 
see  in  so  deep  sea  and  in  this  quarter  so  vast 
a  number  of  fish,  that  we  might  say  we  saw  the 
whole  sea  covered  with  them,  and  all  in  a  turmoil, 
though  it  was  calm.  There  were  also  big  ones, 
such  as  bonitos  and  albachores,  and  many  other 
kinds,  of  which  we  caught  with  lines  enough  to 
supply  the  ship  ;  and  porpoises  too,  with  harpoons 
attached  to  pieces  of  wood,  then  lifting  them  by 
strength  of  arm.  I  have  seen  these  flying  fish 
everywhere  near  the  line,  both  on  this  and  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  both  N. 
and  .S.  of  the  line. 

Fran<;nis  Pyrard. 


158  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

(From  A    Voyage   lo   the  East  Indies;  Hakluyt  Soc, 
trans. ) 

A  BOUT  that  Hand  and  the  Hand  of  Saint 
Helena,  unto  the  Equinocliall  Hne,  there 
are  flying  Fishes,  as  great  as  Herings,  which  flie 
by  great  flockes  together,  two  or  three  Fadome 
above  the  water,  and  flie  in  that  manner  at  the 
least  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  untill  their  wings  or 
finnes  be  drie,  and  then  they  can  flie  no  longer, 
but  fall  into  the  water,  and  there  wet  themselves, 
and  then  flie  againe  above  the  water.  The  cause 
why  they  flie  in  that  sort  is,  because  they  are 
chased  by  the  great  fishes,  that  eate  them,  and  to 
escape  from  them,  they  flie  above  the  water,  and 
some  times  into  the  shippes  :  for  many  of  them 
fell  into  our  ship,  which  flew  too  high,  for  when 
their  wings  are  drie  they  must  needes  fall. 

Linschotpn. 


Mystery  of  the  Ocean        -vi^        -c^ 

(From  The  Pirate) 

'T^HE  ocean  also  had  its  mysteries,  the  effect  of 
which  was  aided  by  the  dim  twilight,  through 
which  it  was  imperfectly  seen  for  more  than  half 
the  year.  Its  bottomless  depths  and  secret  caves 
contained,  according  to  the  account  of  Sweyn  and 


SIR    WALTER    SCOTT  1 59 

Others  skilled  in  legendary  lore,  such  wonders  as 
modern  navigators  reject  with  disdain,  yin  the 
quiet  moonlight  bay,  where  the  waves  came  rip- 
pling to  the  shore,  upon  a  bed  of  smooth  sand 
intermingled  with  shells,  the  mermaid  was  still 
seen  to  glide  along  the  waters  by  moonlight  and, 
mingling  her  voice  with  the  sighing  breeze,  was 
often  heard  to  sing  of  subterranean  wonders,  or  to 
chant  prophecies  of  future  events.  The  kraken, 
the  hugest  of  living  things,  was  still  supposed  to 
cumber  the  recesses  of  the  Northern  Ocean  ;  and 
often,  when  some  fog-bank  covered  the  sea  at  a 
distance,  the  eye  of  the  experienced  boatman  saw 
the  horns  of  the  monstrous  leviathan  walking  and 
waving  amidst  the  wreaths  of  mist,  and  bore  away 
with  all  press  of  oar  and  sail,  lest  the  sudden 
suction,  occasioned  by  the  sinking  of  the  mon- 
strous mass  to  the  bottom,  should  drag  within  the 
grasp  of  its  multifarious  feelers  his  own  frail  skiff. 
The  sea-snake  was  also  known,  which,  arising  out 
of  the  depths  of  ocean,  stretches  to  the  skies  his 
enormous  neck,  covered  with  a  mane  like  that  of  a 
war-horse,  and,  with  his  broad  glittering  eyes  rai.sed 
masthead  higli,  looks  out,  as  it  seems,  for  plunder 
or  for  victims. 

Sir  Walier  Scott. 


l6o  THE   CALL   OF   THE    SEA 

Victory  of  the  Coral-Builders        -^^^y 

(From  The  Voyage  of  H. M.S.  "Beagle'') 

T  CAN  hardly  explain  the  reason,  but  there  is  to 
my  mind  much  grandeur  in  the  view  of  the 
outer  shores  of  these  lagoon  islands.  There  is  a 
simplicity  in  the  barrier-like  beach,  the  margin  of 
green  bushes  and  tall  cocoa-nuts,  the  solid  flat  of 
dead  coral-rock,  strewed  here  and  there  with  great 
loose  fragments,  and  the  line  of  furious  breakers, 
all  rounding  away  towards  either  hand.  The  ocean, 
throwing  its  waters  over  the  broad  reef,  appears 
an  invincible,  all-powerful  enemy  ;  yet  we  see  it 
resisted,  and  even  conquered,  by  means  which  at 
first  seem  most  weak  and  inefficient.  It  is  not 
that  the  ocean  spares  the  rock  of  coral ;  the  great 
fragments  scattered  over  the  reef,  and  heaped  on 
the  beach,  whence  the  tall  cocoa-nut  springs, 
plainly  bespeak  the  unrelenting  power  of  the 
waves.  Nor  are  any  periods  of  repose  granted. 
The  long  swell  caused  by  the  gentle  but  steady 
action  of  the  trade-wind,  always  blowing  in  one 
direction  over  a  wide  area,  causes  breakers,  almost 
equalling  in  force  those  during  a  gale  of  wind  in 
the  temperate  regions,  and  which  never  cease 
to  rage.  It  is  impossible  to  behold  these  waves 
without  feeling  a  conviction  that  an  island,  though 
built  of    the   hardest    rock,   let    it    be   porphyry, 


C.    F.    HOLDER  l6l 

granite,  or  quartz,  would  ultimately  yield  and  be 
demolished  by  such  an  irresistible  power.  Yet 
these  low,  insignificant  coral-islets  stand  and  are 
victorious  ;  for  here  another  power,  as  an  antago- 
nist, takes  part  in  the  contest.  The  organic  forces 
separate  the  atoms  of  carbonate  of  lime,  one  by 
one,  from  the  foaming  breakers,  and  unite  them 
into  a  symmetrical  structure.  Let  the  hurricane 
tear  up  its  thousand  huge  fragments  ;  yet  what 
will  that  tell  against  the  accumulated  labours  of 
myriads  of  architects  at  work  night  and  day,  month 
after  month  ?  Thus  do  we  see  the  soft  and  gela- 
tinous body  of  a  polypus,  through  the  agency  of  the 
vital  laws,  conquering  the  great  mechanical  power 
of  the  waves  of  an  ocean  which  neither  the  art  of 
man   nor  the   inanimate   works   of   nature  could 

successfully  resist. 

Charles  Darwin. 


The  Sea-Garden        -o        <:>        ^liy 

(I'"rom  The  Log  of  a  Sea-Angler) 

'X'HE  island  of  Santa  Catalina  is  a  picture  with  a 
turquoise  background,  the  Kuroshiwo  of  Japan, 
which  flows  down  our  coast  and  has  a  frame  of 
emerald  green,  the  kelp  beds  ;  and  with  rare  ex- 
ceptions the  entire  Pacific  coast  is  protected  in  this 
way,  the  giant  weed  rising  in  water  thirty  or  more 
feet  in  height,  reaching  the  surface,  and  forming 

.M 


l62  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

in  many  instances  a  barrier  against  the  heavy  sea 
which  comes  rolling  in  across  the  broad  expanse 
of  ocean.  Especially  at  Santa  Catalina  it  forms, 
in  the  smooth  water  of  the  north  and  east  coasts, 
a  series  of  beautiful  floating  gardens,  twenty  or 
more  miles  in  extent ;  a  forest  of  the  sea  of  varied 
attractions,  in  which  are  found  strange  and  often 
beautiful  fishes,  and  other  marine  animals,  specially 
adapted  or  modified  by  nature  to  their  peculiar 
environment. 

Midday,  at  half-tide,  is  the  best  time  to  visit 
these  floating  gardens  ;  then  the  bottom  can  be 
plainly  seen,  a  vivid  turquoise  blue  gleaming 
brightly  through  the  interstices  of  golden  branches, 
really  green,  which,  when  illumined  by  the  sun, 
take  an  old  gold  hue.  The  leaves  are  ten,  twenty, 
or  even  thirty  feet  in  length,  twelve  inches  in 
width,  richly  fluted,  and  hang  in  myriad  positions 
of  grace  and  beauty,  so  that,  in  peering  down  from 
above,  one  looks  through  halls  and  parterres  in- 
numerable, that  extend  and  reach  away  to  infinity. 

In  South  America,  especially  about  the  Falkland 
Islands,  the  kelp,  or  Macrocystis,  attains  an  enor- 
mous length.  Sections  estimated  at  one  thousand 
feet  have  been  taken  up  and  employed  as  cables 
for  ships,  which  were  thus  saved  the  trouble  of 
lowering  and  hoisting  their  anchors.  On  this 
desolate  coast  the  kelp  forms  a  protecting  fringe 
for  fishes,  which  otherwise  would  be  unable  to  live. 


C.    F.    HOLDER  1 63 

owing  to  the  heavy  surf  that  is  always  piling  in  ; 
and  thus  incidentally  the  miserable  Patagonians 
are  saved  from  starvation,  subsisting  almost  entirely 
upon  the  fishes,  the  barren  half-frozen  land  pro- 
ducing little  or  nothing. 

Everywhere  alongshore  this  maze  of  hardy  vines 
constitutes  a  shelter  for  many  animals.  It  is  a 
forest  of  seaweed,  rising  from  great  depths,  rolling 
over  and  over  in  strange  but  graceful  convolu- 
tions in  the  surf  or  tidal  currents,  a  menace  to 
swimmers  and  at  times  to  vessels,  but,  when  dor- 
mant and  illumined  by  the  sun,  a  thing  of  radiant 
beauty. 

Along  the  Santa  Catalina  coast,  at  extreme  low 
tide,  the  kelp  lies  in  such  thick  involved  masses 
that  it  forms  an  almost  impassable  barrier.  These 
huge  vines,  which  do  not  indicate  a  rocky  coast, 
fasten  to  small  rocks  or  stones  anywhere  in  water 
of  medium  depth  from  a  few  yards  to  half  a  mile 
from  shore ;  and,  when  cast  up,  show  the  short 
roots  coiled  about  some  small  object  with  a  vice- 
like  grip.  These  floating  gardens  afford  a  home 
to  a  niultitiule  of  animals,  strange,  because  they 
have  insensibly  taken  on  a  singular  means  of  pro- 
tection, mimicking  the  tone  or  color  of  the  leaf. 
These  animals  include  crabs,  shell-less  mollusks, 
and  fishes.  One  of  the  crabs,  which  is  nearly  two 
inches  across,  is  so  perfect  an  imitation  of  the  kelp 
that  when   lying   directly  before  my  eyes   it  was 


164  THE   CALL   OF    THE    SEA 

almost  impossible  to  see  it  unless  it  moved.  It 
has  peculiar  points  and  spikes  which  further  in- 
tensify the  resemblance.  Lying  on  the  great 
leaves  are  numbers  of  slug-like  creatures,  "  shells  " 
without  shells,  tinted  green,  safe  in  this  protection 
from  nearly  all  intruders.  But  the  most  remark- 
able resemblance  is  seen  in  a  fish  called  the  kelp 
fish.  It  is  about  a  foot  in  length,  the  exact  colour 
of  the  kelp,  with  a  long  continuous  dorsal  fin, 
frilled  exactly  like  the  edge  of  the  leaf  Did  this 
fish  dart  about,  or  comport  itself  as  other  fishes,  it 
would  at  once  be  observed,  but  it  does  nothing  of 
the  kind  ;  it  lies  at  the  bottom,  or  near  it,  standing 
literally  upon  its  head,  with  its  tail  extending 
upward  with  the  shorter  kelp  leaves,  and  in  this 
position,  hanging  in  the  gardens,  waves  to  and  fro 
with  every  swell  that  sways  the  forest  of  algas. 

C.  F.  Holder. 


The  Bottom  of  the  Sea        -<::i'        -^o 

(From  Vingt  Milk  Lieues  sous  les  Mers) 

/^UI  !  un  taillis  d'arbres  morts,  sans  feuilles, 
sans  s^ve,  arbres  mineralises  sous  Taction 
des  eaux,  et  que  dominaient  ql\  et  Ik  des  pins  gigan- 
tesques.  C'dtait  comnie  une  houill^re  encore 
debout,  tenant  pars  ses  racines  au  sol  eftbndrd,  et 
dent  la  ramure,  a  la  maniere  des  fines  dccoupnres 


JULES    VERNE  I  65 

de  papier  noir,  se  dessinait  nettement  sur  le  pla- 
fond des  eaux.  Que  Ton  se  figure  une  foret  du 
Hartz,  accrochee  aux  flancs  d'une  montagne,  mais 
une  foret  engloutie.  Les  senliers  etaient  en- 
combre's  d'algues  et  de  fucus,  entre  lesquels 
grouillait  un  monde  de  crustacds.  J'allais,  gravis- 
sant  les  rocs,  enjambant  les  troncs  ^tendus,  brisant 
les  lianes  de  raer  qui  se  balangaient  d'un  arbre 
k  I'auire,  effarouchant  les  poissons  qui  volaient  de 
branche  en  branche.  Entraind,  je  ne  sentais  plus 
la  fatigue.  Je  suivais  men  guide  qui  ne  se  fati- 
guait  pas. 

Quel  spectacle !  Comment  le  rendre  ?  Com- 
ment peindre  I'aspect  dc  ces  bois  et  de  ces  rochers 
dans  ce  milieu  liquide,  leurs  dessous  sombres  et 
farouches,  leurs  dessus  colorc's  de  tons  rouges  sous 
cette  clartd  que  doublait  la  puissance  rdverbd- 
rante  des  eaux  ?  Nous  gravissions  des  rocs  qui 
s'cboulaient  ensuite  par  pans  dnormes,  avec  un 
sourd  grondement  d'avalanche.  A  droite,  a  gauche, 
sc  creusaient  de  tdncbreuses  galeries  ou  se  perdait 
le  regard.  Ici  s'ouvraient  de  vasles  clairidires,  que 
la  main  de  I'homnie  semblait  avoir  degagccs,  el  je 
me  dcmandais  parfois  si  quekjue  habitant  de  ces 
regions  sous-marines  n'allait  pas  tout  il  coup 
m'apparaitre. 

Mais  le  capitaine  Nemo  monlait  toujours.  Je 
ne  voulais  pas  rester  en  arricrc.  Je  le  suivais 
hardimcnt.    Mon  baton  me  prctait  un  utile  secours. 


1 66  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

Un  faux  pas  eut  dte  dangereux  sur  ces  elroites 
passes  evidees  avix  flancs  des  gouffres  ;  mais  j'y 
marchais  d'un  pied  ferme  et  sans  ressentir  I'ivresse 
du  vertige.  Tantot  je  sautais  una  crevasse  dont 
la  profondeur  m'eut  fait  reculer  au  milieu  des 
glaciers  de  la  terre  ;  tantot  je  m'aventurais  sur  le 
tronc  vacillant  des  arbres  jet^s  d'un  abime  a 
I'autre,  sans  regarder  sous  mes  pieds,  n'ayant  des 
yeux  que  pour  admirer  les  sites  sauvages  de  cette 
region.  La,  des  rocs  monumentaux,  penchant  sur 
leurs  bases  irreguli^rement  decoupees,  semblaient 
defier  les  lois  de  I'equilibre.  Entre  leurs  genoux 
de  pierre,  des  arbres  poussaient  comme  un  jet 
sous  une  pression  formidable,  et  soutenaient  ceux 
qui  les  soutenaient  eux-memes.  Puis,  des  tours 
naturelles,  de  larges  pans  tailles  k  pic  comme  des 
courtines,  s'inclinaient  sous  un  angle  que  les  lois 
de  la  gravitation  n'eussent  pas  autorisd  b.  la 
surface  des  regions  terrestres. 

Et  moi-mcme  ne  sentais-je  pas  cette  dififcrence 
due  a  la  puissante  densitd  de  I'eau,  quand,  malgre 
mes  lourds  vetements,  ma  tete  de  cuivre,  mes 
semelles  de  mdtal,  je  m'dlevais  sur  des  pentes  d'une 
impracticable  raideur,  les  franchissant  pour  ainsi 
dire  avec  la  Idgeret^  d'un  isard  ou  d'un  chamois  ! 

Au  r^cit  que  je  fais  de  cette  excursion  sous  les 
eaux,  je  sens  bien  que  je  ne  pourrai  etre  vrai- 
semblable  !  Je  suis  pourtant  I'historien  des  choses 
d'apparence    impossible,    mais    qui    sont    r^elles, 


JULES   VERNE  167 

incontestables.      Je   n'ai    point    revc.      J'ai    vu   et 
senti  ! 

Deux  heures  apres  avoir  quittd  le  Nautilus^  nous 
avions  franchi  la  ligne  des  arbres,  et  k  cent  pieds 
au-dessus  de  nos  tetes  se  dressait  le  pic  de  la 
montagne  dont  la  projection  faisait  ombre  sur 
I'dclatante  irradiation  du  versant  opposd.  Quel- 
ques  arbrisseaux  pdtrifids  couraient  9k  et  Ik  en 
zigzags  mena^ants.  Les  poissons  sc  levaient  en 
masse  sous  nos  pas  comma  des  oiseaux  surpris 
dans  les  hautes  herbes.  La  masse  rocheuse 
dtait  creusde  d'impdndtrables  anfractuositds,  de 
grottes  profondes,  d'insondables  trous,  au  fond 
desquels  j'entendais  remuer  des  choses  formid- 
ables.  Le  sang  me  refluait  'usqu'au  coeur,  quand 
j'apercevais  une  antenne  (fnorme  qui  me  barrait 
la  route,  ou  quelque  pince  effrayante  se  refermant 
avec  bruit,  dans  I'ombre  des  cavit($s  !  Des  milliers 
de  points  lumineux  brillaient  au  milieu  des 
tdncbres.  C'dtaient  les  yeux  de  crustacds  gigan- 
tesques,  tapis  dans  leur  tanicre,  des  homards 
gdants  se  redressant  comme  des  hailebardiers  et 
rcmuant  leurs  pattes  avec  un  cliquetis  de  ferraille, 
des  crabes  titanesques,  braquds  comme  des  canons 
sur  leurs  afifuts,  et  des  poulpes  efifroyables  entre- 
lagant  leurs  tentacules,  broussaille  vivanle  de 
serpents. 

Jules  I  erne. 


l68  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

(From  Three  Cruises  of  the  "  B/ahe") 

'T^HE  monotony,  dreariness,  and  desolation  of 
the  deeper  parts  of  this  submarine  scenery 
can  scarcely  be  realised.  The  most  barren  terres- 
trial districts  must  seem  diversified  when  compared 
with  the  vast  expanse  of  ooze  which  covers  the 
deeper  parts  of  the  ocean, — a  monotony  only  re- 
lieved by  the  fall  of  the  dead  carcasses  of  pelagic 
animals  and  plants,  which  slowly  find  their  way 
from  the  surface  to  the  bottom,  and  supply  the 
principal  food  for  the  scanty  fauna  found  living 
there. 

Nearer  to  the  continental  masses  we  find  the 
slopes  inhabited  by  a  more  abundant  and  more 
varied  fauna,  increasing  in  variety  and  numbers 
according  to  the  amount  of  food  available.  But 
no  matter  how  varied  or  how  abundant  life  may 
be,  the  general  aspect  of  the  slopes  must  be  dreary 
in  the  extreme,  and  can  only  be  compared  in 
character  to  those  higher  mountain  regions  where 
we  find  occasional  fields  of  wild  flowers  and  low 
shrubs,  or  to  those  zones  lying  beyond  the  limits 
of  forests,  where  vegetation  is  scanty  and  poor 
and  forms  but  a  slight  covering  to  the  earth's 
surface. 

It  is  true  that  along  the  continental  slopes, 
where  there  is  an  ample  supply  of  food,  we  rind 
animal  life  in  great  abundance,  and  there  are  un- 


ALEXANDER    AGASSI2  I  69 

doubtedly  long  stretches  of  bottom  carpeted  by 
the  most  brilliantly  colored  animals,  packed  quite 
as  closely  as  they  are  on  banks  in  shallower  waters, 
or  near  low-water  mark.  But  the  scene  is  much 
less  varied  than  on  land  ;  the  absence  of  plants  in 
deep  water  makes  great  diversity  of  scenery  im- 
possible. The  place  of  luxuriant  forests  with  the 
accompanying  underbrush  and  their  inhabitants 
is  only  indifferently  supplied  by  large  anthozoa 
and  huge  cuttlefishes,  or  nearer  in  shore,  within 
moderate  depths,  by  sea-weed  and  the  pelagic 
forests  of  giant  kelp. 

It  requires  but  little  imagination  to  notice  the 
contrasts,  as  we  pass  from  the  shallow  littoral 
regions  of  the  sea, — full  of  sunlight  and  move- 
ment, and  teeming  with  animal  and  vegetable  life, 
—  into  the  dimly  lighted,  but  richly  populated  con- 
tinental zone  ;  and  further  to  imagine  the  gradual 
decrease  of  the  continental  fauna,  as  it  fades  into 
the  calm,  cold,  dark,  and  nearly  deserted  abyssal 
regions  of  the  oceanic  floors  at  a  distance  from  the 
continents.  It  is  like  going  from  the  lu.xuriant 
vegetation  of  the  tropical  shore  line — the  region 
of  palms,  bananas,  and  mango — into  the  cooler 
zone  of  oaks  and  pines,  until  we  pass  out  into  the 
higher  levels,  with  their  stunted  vegetation  and 
scanty  fauna,  and  finally  into  the  colder  climate  of 
the  bleak  regions  of  perpetual  snow. 

Alexander  A^assiz. 


170  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

(From  A  Sack  of  Shakings) 

T  T  would  be  an  awful  country  to  view,  this  sud- 
denly exposed  floor  of  the  sea.  A  barren  land 
of  weird  outline,  of  almost  unimaginable  com- 
plexity of  contour,  but  without  any  beauty  such  as 
is  bestowed  upon  the  dry  earth  by  the  kindly  sun. 
For  its  beauty  depends  upon  the  sea,  whose  prolific 
waters  are  peopled  with  life  so  abundantly  that 
even  the  teeming  earth  is  barren  as  compared  with 
the  ocean.  But  at  its  greatest  depths  all  the  re- 
searches that  man  has  been  able  to  prosecute  go 
to  prove  that  there  is  little  life.  The  most  that 
goes  on  there  is  a  steady  accumulation  of  the  dead 
husks  of  once  living  organisms  settling  slowly  down 
to  form  who  knows  what  new  granites,  marbles, 
porphyries,  against  the  time  when  another  race  of 
a  reorganised  earth  shall  need  them.  Here  there 
is  nothing  fanciful,  for  if  we  know  anything  at  all 
of  prehistoric  times,  it  is  that  what  is  now  high 
land,  not  to  say  merely  dry  land,  was  once  lying 
cold  and  dormant  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  being 
prepared  throughout  who  can  say  what  unrealisable 
periods  of  time  for  the  use  and  enjoyment  of  its 
present  lords.  Not  until  we  leave  the  rayless 
gloom,  the  incalculable  pressures  and  universal 
cold  of  those  tremendous  depths,  do  we  find  the 
sea-floor  beginning  to  abound  with  life.  It  may 
even  be  doubted  whether  anything  of  man's  handi- 


HENRY    FIELDING  171 

work,  such  as  there  is  about  a  ship  foundering  in 
mid-ocean,  would  ever  reach  in  a  recognisable 
form  the  bottom  of  the  sea  at  a  depth  of  more 
than  2000  fathoms.  There  is  an  idea,  popularly 
current  among  seafarers,  that  sunken  ships  in  the 
deep  sea  only  go  down  a  certain  distance,  no 
matter  what  their  build  or  how  ponderous  their 
cargo.  Having  reached  a  certain  stratum,  they 
then  drift  about,  slowly  disintegrating,  derelicts  of 
the  depths,  swarming  with  strange  denizens,  the 
shadowy  fleets  of  the  lost  and  loved  and  mourned. 

F.  T.  Bullen. 


Abundance  of  Fish  in  the  Sea        'Cv 

(From  \ht  Journal  0/  a  Voyage  to  Lisbon) 

(~\^  all  the  animal  foods  with  which  man  is 
furnished,  there  are  none  so  plenty  as  fish. 
A  little  rivulet,  that  j^lides  almost  unperceived 
through  a  vast  tract  of  rich  land,  will  support  more 
hundreds  with  the  flesh  of  its  inhabitants  than  the 
meadow  will  nourish  individuals.  But  if  this  be 
true  of  rivers,  it  is  much  truer  of  the  seashores, 
which  abound  with  such  immense  variety  of  fish 
that  the  curious  fisherman,  after  he  hath  made 
his  draught,  often  culls  only  the  daintiest  part  and 
leaves  the  rest  of  his  prey  to  perish  on  the  shore. 
If  this  be  true,  it  would  appear,   I   lliink,  lliat 


172  THE   CALL   OF    THE   SEA 

there  is  nothing  which  may  be  had  in  such  abund- 
ance, and  consequently  so  cheap,  as  fish,  of  which 
Nature  seems  to  have  provided  such  inexhaustible 
stores  with  some  peculiar  design.  In  the  produc- 
tion of  terrestrial  animals  she  proceeds  with  such 
slowness  that,  in  the  larger  kind,  a  single  female 
seldom  produces  more  than  one  a  year,  and  this 
again  requires  three,  four,  or  five  years  more  to 
bring  it  to  perfection.  And  though  the  lesser 
quadrupeds,  those  of  the  wild  kind  particularly, 
with  the  birds,  do  multiply  much  faster,  yet  can 
none  of  these  bear  any  proportion  with  the  aquatic 
animals,  of  whom  every  female  matrix  is  furnished 
with  an  annual  offspring  almost  exceeding  the 
power  of  numbers,  and  which,  in  many  instances 
at  least,  a  single  year  is  capable  of  bringing  to 
some  degree  of  maturity. 

Henry  Fielding. 


VIII 
SEA    FIGHTS 


"We  gave  her  three  pieces  of  ordnance  only,  and 
struck  down  her  mizen  mast,  and  then  boarded  sword  in 
hand,  but  never  had  need  to  strilte  a  blow  ;  and  before 
we  left  her,  one  of  her  own  boys  had  changed  her  name, 
and  re-christened  her  the  '  Cacaplata'." 

"Glory,  glory!  Cowards  they  are,  as  I  told  them.  I 
told  them  they  never  could  stand  the  Devon  mastiffs  ! " 

Charles  Kingsley  (from  Westixard  Ho!). 


Salamis  (480  B.C.)  O  ^^  '^^ 
(From  the  History ;  Bohn,  trans.) 
AirHEN  the  signal  was  given  to  the  Greeks, 
first  of  all,  turning  their  prows  against  the 
barbarians,  they  contracted  their  sterns  inwardly  to 
the  middle  ;  and  when  the  second  signal  was  given, 
they  commenced  the  attack,  though  enclosed  in  a 
narrow  space,  and  that  prow  to  prow.  On  this 
occasion  they  took  thirty  ships  of  the  barbarians, 
and  Philaon,  son  of  Chersis,  the  brother  of  Gorgus, 
king  of  the  Salaminians,  a  man  highly  esteemed 
in  their  army.  Lycomedes,  son  of  /Eschreus,  an 
Athenian,  was  the  first  of  the  Greeks  who  took  a 
ship  from  the  enemy,  and  he  received  the  palm  of 
valour.  But  night,  coming  on,  separated  the  com- 
batants, who  in  this  engagement  fought  with  doubt- 
ful success.  The  Greeks  returned  to  Artemisium, 
and  the  barbarians  to  Aphet.v,  having  fought  with 
far  different  success  than  they  expected.  In  this 
engagement,  Antidorus,  a  Lemnian,  was  the  only 
one  of  the  Greeks  in  the  king's  service  who  went 
over  to  the  Grecians  ;  and  on  that  account  the 
Athenians  presented  him  with  lands  in  Salamis. 

When  night  came  on— it  was  now  the  middle  of 
summer— heavy  rain  fell  through  llic  whole  night, 

'75 


176  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

and  violent  thunder  about  Pelion  ;  but  the  dead 
bodies  and  pieces  of  wreck  were  driven  to  Aphetae, 
and  got  entangled  round  the  prows  of  the  ships 
and  impeded  the  blades  of  the  oars.  But  the 
soldiers  who  were  on  board,  when  they  heard  the 
thunder,  were  seized  with  terror,  expecting  that 
they  must  certainly  perish,  into  such  calamities 
had  they  fallen.  For  before  they  had  recovered 
breath,  after  the  wreck  and  tempest  that  had 
occurred  off  Pelion,  a  fierce  engagement  followed  ; 
and  after  the  engagement,  impetuous  rain  and 
mighty  torrents  rushing  into  the  sea,  and  violent 
thunder.  Such  was  the  night  to  them.  But  to 
those  who  had  been  appointed  to  sail  round 
Euboea,  this  same  night  proved  so  much  the 
more  wild,  in  that  it  fell  upon  them  while  they 
were  in  the  open  sea  ;  and  the  end  was  grievous  to 
them  ;  for  as  they  were  sailing,  the  storm  and  rain 
overtook  them  when  they  were  near  the  Coela  of 
Euboea,  and,  being  driven  by  the  wind,  and  not 
knowing  where  they  were  driven,  they  were  dashed 
upon  the  rocks.  All  this  was  done  by  the  deity, 
that  the  Persian  might  be  brought  to  an  equality 
with  the  Grecian,  or  at  least  not  be  greatly 
superior.  Thus  they  perished  near  the  Coela  of 
Euboea.  The  barbarians  at  Aphetae,  when,  to  their 
great  joy,  day  dawned,  kept  their  ships  at  rest  and 
were  content,  after  they  had  suffered  so  much,  to 
remain  quiet  for  the  present.     But  three-and-tifty 


HERODOTUS  1 77 

Attic  ships  came  to  reinforce  the  Greeks ;  and 
both  these  by  their  arrival  gave  them  additional 
courage,  as  did  the  news  that  came  at  the  same 
time,  that  those  of  the  barbarians  who  were  sailing 
round  Eubcea  had  all  perished  in  the  late  storm  ; 
therefore,  having  waited  to  the  same  hour,  they 
set  sail  and  attacked  the  Cilician  ships,  and, 
having  destroyed  them,  as  soon  as  it  was  night 
they  sailed  back  to  Artemisium. 

On  the  third  day,  the  commanders  of  the  bar- 
barians, indignant  at  being  insulted  by  so  few 
ships,  and  fearing  the  displeasure  of  Xerxes,  no 
longer  waited  for  the  Greeks  to  begin  the  battle ;  but, 
encouragmg  one  another,  got  under  weigh  about 
the  middle  of  the  day.  It  happened  that  these 
actions  by  sea  and  those  by  land  at  Thermopyhe 
took  place  on  the  same  days  ;  and  the  whole 
struggle  for  those  at  sea  was  for  the  Euripus,  as 
for  those  with  Leonidas  to  guard  the  pass.  The 
one  party  encouraging  each  other  not  to  suffer  the 
barbarians  to  enter  Greece ;  and  the  other,  to  de- 
stroy the  Grecian  forces  and  make  themselves 
masters  of  the  channel. 

When  the  barbarians,  having  formed  in  line, 
sailed  onwards,  the  Grecians  remained  still  at 
Artemisium  ;  but  the  barbarians,  having  drawn  up 
their  ships  in  the  form  of  a  crescent,  encircled 
them  as  if  they  would  take  them  ;  whereupon  the 
N 


178  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

Greeks  sailed  out  to  meet  them,  and  engaged.  In 
this  battle  they  were  nearly  equal  to  one  another  ; 
for  the  fleet  of  Xerxes,  by  reason  of  its  magnitude 
and  number,  impeded  itself,  as  the  ships  incom- 
moded and  ran  foul  of  one  another;  however,  they 
continued  to  fight  and  would  not  yield,  for  they 
were  ashamed  to  be  put  to  flight  by  a  few  ships. 
Accordingly  many  ships  of  the  Grecians  perished 
and  many  men  ;  and  of  the  barbarians  a  much 
greater  number  of  both  ships  and  men.  Having 
fought  in  this  manner,  they  separated  from  each 
other.  In  this  engagement  the  Egyptians  sig- 
nalised themselves  among  the  forces  of  Xerxes  ; 
for  they  both  achieved  other  great  actions  and 
took  five  Grecian  ships  with  their  crews.  On  the 
part  of  the  Greeks,  the  Athenians  signalised  them- 
selves on  this  day,  and,  among  the  Athenians, 
Clinias,  son  of  Alcibiades ;  who  at  his  own  expense 
joined  the  fleet  with  two  hundred  men  and  a  ship 
of  his  own.  .  .  . 

The  barbarians  being  turned  to  flight,  and  sail- 
ing away  towards  Phalerus,  the  ALg'm'it^e,  waylay- 
ing them  in  the  strait,  performed  actions  worthy  of 
record.  For  the  Athenians  in  the  rout  ran  down 
both  those  ships  that  resisted  and  those  that  fled  ; 
and  the  .^ginitse,  those  that  sailed  away  from  the 
battle  :  so  that  when  any  escaped,  the  Athenians, 
being  borne  violently  on,  they  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  ^ginitas.     At  this  time  there  happened  to 


HERODOTUS  179 

meet  together  the  ship  of  Themistocles,  giving 
chase  to  one  of  the  enemy,  and  that  of  Polycritus, 
son  of  Crius,  an  ^Eginetan,  bearing  down  upon  a 
Sidonian  ship,  the  same  that  had  taken  the 
itginetan  ship,  which  was  keeping  watch  off 
Sciathus,  and  on  board  of  which  sailed  Pytheas, 
son  of  Ischenous,  whom,  though  covered  with 
wounds,  the  Persians  kept  in  the  ship  from  admira- 
tion of  his  valour.  The  Sidonian  ship  that  carried 
him  about  was  taken  with  the  Persians  on  board, 
so  that  Pytheas,  by  this  means,  returned  safe  to 
yEgina.  But  when  Polycritus  saw  the  Athenian 
ship,  he  knew  it,  seeing  the  admiral's  ensign  ;  and, 
shouting  to  Themistocles,  he  railed  at  him,  up- 
braiding him  with  the  charge  of  Medism  brought 
against  the  /Eginit^e.  Polycritus  accordingly,  as 
he  was  attacking  the  ship,  threw  out  these  re- 
proaches against  Themistocles.  But  the  bar- 
barians, whose  ships  survived,  fled  and  arrived 
at  Phalerus,  under  the  protection  of  the  land 
forces.  .  .  . 

When  the  sea-fight  was  ended,  the  Circcks, 
having  hauled  on  shore  at  Salamis  ail  the  wrecks 
that  still  happened  to  be  there,  held  themselves 
ready  for  another  battle,  expecting  that  the  king 
would  still  make  use  of  the  ships  that  survived. 

Herodotus. 


l8o  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 


(From  The  rcrsians ;  Bohn) 

TJ'OR  a  Greek  that  had  come  from  the  host  of 
the  Athenians  told  thy  son  Xerxes,  this,  that, 
when  the  gloom  of  murky  night  should  come,  the 
Greeks  would  not  remain,  but,  springing  on  the 
benches  of  their  vessels,  would  severally,  in  different 
directions,  save  their  lives  by  stealthy  flight.  And 
he,  as  soon  as  he  heard  it,  not  aware  of  the 
stratagem  of  the  Greek,  nor  of  the  jealousy 
of  the  gods,  publishes  this  order  to  all  his  cap- 
tains, that  when  the  sun  should  have  ceased  to 
illumine  the  earth  with  his  rays  and  darkness 
tenant  the  temple  of  the  firmament,  they  should 
draw  up  the  squadron  of  the  ships  in  three  lines, 
to  guard  the  outlets  and  the  murmuring  passes  of 
the  sea,  and  others  in  a  circle  round  the  Isle  of 
Ajax ;  so  that  if  the  Greeks  should  elude  fatal 
destruction  by  discovering  any  escape  for  their 
ships  by  stealth,  it  was  decreed  that  they  should 
all  be  deprived  of  their  heads.  To  this  effect  he 
spake  from  a  frantic  spirit ;  for  he  knew  not  that 
which  was  preordained  of  the  gods.  And  they, 
without  disorder,  and  with  obedient  mind,  both 
provided  supper  for  themselves,  and  the  mariner 
lashed  his  oar  to  the  well-fitted  rowlock.  And 
when  the  light  of  the  sun  had  waned,  and  night 


iESCHYLUS  l8l 

had  come  on,  every  man,  master  of  an  oar,  went 
on  board  his  ship,  and  every  one  that  had  sway 
over  arms  :  and  one  line  of  ships  of  war  cheered 
on  another  hne,  and  they  made  sail  as  each  had 
been  appointed,  and  all  the  live-long  night  the 
commanders  of  the  ships  were  keeping  the  whole 
naval  host  occupied  in  sailing  about.  And  night 
withdrew,  and  the  force  of  the  Greeks  by  no 
means  made  a  stealthy  escape  in  any  direction. 
But  when  Day,  drawn  by  white  steeds,  had  occu- 
pied the  whole  earth,  of  radiance  beautiful  to 
behold,  first  of  all  a  shout  from  the  Greeks  greeted 
Echo  like  a  song,  and  Echo  from  the  island-rock 
at  the  same  instant  shouted  forth  an  inspiring  cry  : 
and  terror  fell  on  all  the  barbarians,  baulked  of 
their  purpose ;  for  not  as  in  flight  were  the  Greeks, 
then  chaunting  the  solemn  p;can,  but  speeding  on 
to  the  fight  with  gallant  daring  of  soul.  And  the 
trumpet,  with  its  clang,  inflamed  their  whole  line  ; 
and  forthwith,  with  the  collision  of  the  dashing  oar, 
at  the  word  of  command  they  smote  the  roaring 
brine.  And  quickly  wore  they  conspicuous  to 
view.  The  right  wing,  well  marshalled,  led  on 
foremost  in  good  order,  and,  secondly,  their  whole 
force  was  coming  forth  against  us,  and  we  could 
at  the  same  time  hear  a  mighty  shout:  SON.s  OF 

THE  GREEKS  I  ON  !  FREE  YOUR  COUNTRY  AND 
FREE  YOUR  CHILDREN,  YOUR  WIVE.S,  THE  AltODES 
TOO  OF  THE  GOlhS  OF   YOUR    FATHEk.S,  AND  TICE 


l82  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

TOMBS  OF  YOUR  ANCESTORS  ;  NOW  IS  THE  CON- 
FLICT FOR  THEM  ALL !  And,  sooth  to  say,  a 
murmur  of  the  Persian  tongue  met  them  from  our 
line,  and  no  longer  was  it  the  moment  to  delay,  but 
forthwith  ship  dashed  her  brazen  prow  at  ship.  And 
a  Grecian  vessel  commenced  the  engagement,  and 
breaks  off  the  whole  of  a  figure-head  of  a  Phoeni- 
cian ship  ;  and  each  commander  severally  directed 
his  bark  against  another  of  the  enemy's.  At  first, 
indeed,  the  torrent  of  the  Persian  armament  bore 
up  against  them  :  but  when  the  multitude  of  our 
ships  were  crowded  in  the  strait  and  no  assist- 
ance could  be  given  to  one  another,  they  were 
struck  by  their  own  brazen  beaks  and  were  smash- 
ing their  entire  equipment  of  oars,  and  the  Grecian 
vessels,  not  without  science,  were  smiting  them  in 
a  circle  on  all  sides,  and  the  hulls  of  our  vessels 
were  upturned,  and  the  sea  was  no  longer  to 
behold,  filled  as  it  was  with  wrecks  and  the 
slaughter  of  men.  The  shores,  too,  and  the  rugged 
rocks  were  filled  with  the  dead  ;  and  every  ship,  as 
many  as  ever  there  were  of  the  barbaric  armament, 
was  rowed  in  flight  without  order.  But  the  Greeks 
kept  striking,  hacking  us  as  it  were  tunnies,  or 
any  draught  of  fishes,  with  fragments  of  oars  and 
splinters  of  wrecks  ;  and  wailing  filled  the  ocean 
brine  with  shrieks,  until  the  eye  of  murky  night 
removed  it.  But  for  the  multitude  of  our  woes — 
no,  not  if  I  should  recite  them  for  ten  days,  could 


iESCHYLUS  183 

I  complete  the  tale  for  thee.  For  be  thou  well 
assured  of  this,  that  there  never  fell  in  a  single  day 
a  multitude  of  men  of  such  number.    .    .    . 

There  is  a  certain  island  lying  off  the  shores  of 
Salamis,  small,  a  dangerous  station  for  ships, 
which  Pan,  who  delights  in  the  dance,  haunts  on 
its  beach.  Thither  Xerxes  sends  these  men,  in 
order  that,  when  the  foemen,  wandering  out  of  their 
ships,  should  make  their  escape  to  the  island,  they 
might  slay  the  soldiery  of  the  Greeks,  an  easy 
prey,  and  rescue  their  comrades  from  the  streams 
of  the  sea,  ill  knowing  of  the  future  ;  for  when 
God  gave  the  glory  of  the  naval  battle  to  the 
Greeks,  on  that  verj'  day  having  fortified  their 
bodies  in  the  armour  well  wrought  of  brass,  they 
leaped  out  of  their  vessels  and  encompassed  the 
whole  island  around,  so  that  they  were  at  a  loss 
whither  they  should  betake  themselves  ;  for  often 
were  they  smitten  by  stones  from  their  hands,  and 
arrows,  falling  on  them  from  the  bowstring,  de- 
stroyed them.  And  at  last,  having  charged  them 
with  one  onslaught,  they  smite,  they  hew  in  pieces 
the  limbs  of  the  wretches,  until  they  had  utterly 
destroyed  the  life  of  all  of  them.  And  Xerxes 
shrieked  aloud,  when  he  saw  the  depth  of  his 
calamities  ;  for  he  had  a  seat  that  afforded  a  clear 
prospect  of  the  whole  armament,  a  high  hill  near 

the  ocean  brine. 

Jischylus. 


184  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

Syracuse  (b.c.  413)        -<:>        •^^        •*^>' 

(From  The  History  of  the  Pcloponnesian   War;  Bohn, 
trans.) 

'T^HE  Syracusans  and  their  allies,  having  pre- 
viously  put  out  with  pretty  nearly  the  same 
number  of  ships  as  before,  proceeded  to  keep 
guard  with  part  of  them  at  the  passage  out,  and 
also  round  the  circumference  of  the  whole  harbour, 
that  they  might  fall  upon  the  Athenians  on  all  sides 
at  once,  while  their  troops  also  at  the  same  time 
came  to  their  aid  at  whatever  part  their  vessels 
might  put  in  to  shore.  The  commanders  of  the 
Syracusan  fleet  were  Sicanus  and  Agatharcus,  each 
occupying  a  wing  of  the  whole  force,  with  Pythen 
and  the  Corinthians  in  the  centre.  When  the 
Athenians  came  up  to  the  bar,  in  the  first  rush 
with  which  they  charged  they  got  the  better  of  the 
ships  posted  at  it,  and  endeavoured  to  break  the 
fastenings.  Afterwards,  when  the  Syracusans  and 
their  allies  bore  down  upon  them  from  all  quarters, 
the  engagement  was  going  on  no  longer  at  the  bar 
alone,  but  over  the  harbour  also  ;  and  an  obstinate 
one  it  was,  such  as  none  of  the  previous  ones  had 
been.  For  great  eagerness  for  the  attack  was 
exhibited  by  the  seamen  on  both  sides,  when  the 
command  was  given  ;  and  there  was  much 
counter-manoeuvring  on  the  part  of  the  masters, 


THUCYDIDES  1 85 

and  rivalry  with  each  other  ;  while  the  soldiers 
on  board  exerted  themselves,  when  vessel  came  in 
collision  with  vessel,  that  the  operations  on  deck 
might  not  fall  short  of  the  skill  shown  by  others. 
Indeed  everyone,  whatever  the  duty  assigned  him, 
made  every  effort  that  he  might  himself  in  each 
case  appear  the  best  man.  And  as  a  great  number 
of  ships  were  engaged  in  a  small  compass  (for 
indeed  they  were  the  largest  fighting  fleets  in  the 
narrowest  space  that  had  ever  been  known,  since 
both  of  them  together  fell  little  short  of  two 
hundred),  the  attacks  made  with  the  beaks  were 
few,  as  there  was  no  means  of  backing  water, 
or  cutting  through  the  enemy's  line  ;  but  chance 
collisions  were  more  frequent,  just  as  one  ship 
might  happen  to  run  into  another,  either  in  flying 
from  or  attacking  a  second.  So  long  as  a  vessel  was 
coming  up  to  the  charge,  those  on  her  decks  plied 
their  javelins,  arrows,  and  stones  in  abundance 
against  her  ;  but  when  they  came  to  close  quarters, 
the  heavy  armed  marines,  fighting  hand  to  hand, 
endeavoured  to  board  each  others'  ships.  In 
many  cases,  too,  it  happened,  through  want  of 
room,  that  on  one  side  they  were  ciiarging  an 
enemy,  and  on  the  other  were  being  charged  them- 
selves, and  that  two  ships,  and  sometimes  even 
more,  were  by  compulsion  entangled  round  one. 
And  thus  the  masters  had  to  guard  against  some, 
and  to  concert  measures  against  others— not  one 


1 86  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

thing  at  a  time,  but  many  things  on  every  side — 
while  the  great  din  from  such  a  number  of  ships 
coming  into  colhsion  both  spread  dismay  and 
prevented  their  hearing  what  the  boatswains  said. 
For  many  were  the  orders  given  and  the  shouts 
raised  by  those  officers  on  each  side,  both  in  the 
discharge  of  their  duty,  and  from  their  present 
eagerness  for  the  battle  :  while  they  cried  out  to 
the  Athenians  "  to  force  the  passage,"  and  now,  if 
ever  they  meant  to  do  it  hereafter,  to  exert  them- 
selves heartily  for  a  safe  return  to  their  country  ; 
and  to  the  Syracusans  and  their  allies,  "that  it 
would  be  a  glorious  achievement  for  them  to 
prevent  the  enemy's  escape,  and  by  gaining  the 
victory  to  confer  honour  on  their  respective 
countries."  The  commanders,  moreover,  on  each 
side,  if  they  saw  any  captain  in  any  part  un- 
necessarily rowing  astern,  called  out  on  him  by 
name  and  asked  him,  on  the  side  of  the  Athenians, 
"  whether  they  were  retreating  because  they  con- 
sidered the  land,  which  was  in  the  possession  of' 
their  bitterest  enemies,  as  more  their  own  than  the 
sea,  which  had  been  won  with  no  small  trouble  ? " 
on  that  of  the  Syracusans,  "  whether  they  were 
themselves  flying  from  the  flying  Athenians,  whom 
they  knew  for  certain  to  be  anxious  to  escape  from 
them  in  any  way  whatever?" 

The  troops  on  shore,  too,  on  both  sides,  when 
the  sea-fight  was  so  equally  balanced,  suffered  a 


THUCYDIDES  187 

great  agony  and  conflict  of  feelings  ;  those  of  the 
country  being  ambitious  now  of  still  greater 
honour,  while  their  invaders  were  afraid  of  faring 
even  worse  than  at  present.  For,  since  the 
Athenians'  all  was  staked  on  their  fleet,  their  fear 
for  the  future  was  like  none  they  had  ever  felt 
before ;  and  from  the  unequal  nature  of  the 
engagement  they  were  also  compelled  to  have  an 
unequal  view  of  it  from  the  beach.    .   .   . 

After  the  battle  had  been  thus  obstinately  dis- 
puted, and  many  ships  and  men  destroyed  on  both 
sides,  the  Syracusans  and  allies,  having  gained 
the  victory,  took  up  their  wrecks  and  dead,  and 
then  sailed  away  to  the  city,  and  erected  a  trophy. 
The  Athenians,  from  the  extent  of  their  present 
misery,  did  not  so  much  as  think  about  their  dead 
or  their  wrecks,  or  of  asking  permission  to  take 
them  up,  but  wished  to  retreat  immediately  during 
the  night.  Demosthenes,  however,  went  to  Nicias, 
and  expressed  it  as  his  opinion  that  they  should 
still  man  their  remaining  ships,  and  force  their 
passage  out,  if  they  could,  in  the  morning ; 
alleging  that  they  still  had  left  more  ships  fit  for 
service  than  tiie  enemy  ;  for  the  Athenians  had 
about  sixty  remaining,  while  their  adversaries  iiad 
less  than  fifty.  But  when  Nicias  agreed  with  this 
opinion,  and  they  wished  to  man  them,  the  seamen 
would  not  embark,  through  being  dismayed  at 
their  defeat,  and  thinking  that  they  could  not  now 


Ibb  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

gain  a  victory.     And  so  they  all  now  made  up  their 
minds  to  retreat  by  land. 

Thucydides. 

Sluys  (1340)         -^^        ^o        ^^:>        ^^y 

(From  Chronicles) 

T^HE  French  king  being  aduertised,  that  the 
king  of  England  meant  shortlie  to  returne 
into  Flanders  with  a  great  power,  in  purpose  to 
inuade  the  realme  of  France  on  that  side,  assem- 
bled a  nauie  of  foure  hundred  ships  vnder  the 
leading  of  three  expert  capteins  of  the  warres  by 
sea,  as  sir  Hugh  Kiriell,  sir  Peter  Bahuchet,  and  a 
Geneweis  named  Barbe  Noir,  appointing  them  to 
the  coasts  of  Flanders  to  defend  the  king  of 
England  from  landing  there,  if  by  any  meanes  they 
might.  These  three  capteins  or  admerals  came 
and  laie  with  their  ships  in  the  hauen  of  Slujse,  for 
that  it  was  supposed  the  king  of  England  would 
arriue  there,  as  his  meaning  was  indeed,  wherevpon 
when  his  men,  ships,  and  prouisions  were  once 
readie  in  the  moneth  of  June,  he  tooke  the  sea 
with  two  hundred  saile,  and  directing  his  course 
towards  Flanders,  there  came  vnto  him  the  lord 
Robert  Morley,  with  the  north  nauie  of  England,  so 
that  then  he  had  in  all  about  three  hundred  saile,  or 
(as  other  saie)  two  hundred  and  three  score.  The 
French  nauie  laie  betwixt  Sluise  and  Blancbergh 


HOLINSHED  189 

SO  that  when  the  king  of  England  approched, 
either  part  descried  other,  &  therewith  prepared 
them  to  battell.  The  king  of  England  staied,  till 
the  sunne  which  at  the  first  was  in  his  face,  came 
somewhat  westward,  and  so  had  it  vpon  his  backe, 
that  it  should  not  hinder  the  sight  of  his  people, 
and  so  therewith  did  set  vpon  his  enimies  with 
great  manhood,  who  likewise  verie  stoutlie  in- 
countered  him,  by  reason  whereof  insued  a  sore 
and  deadlie  fight  betwixt  them.  The  nauies  on 
both  sides  were  diuided  into  three  battels.  On 
the  English  part,  the  earles  of  Glocester,  North- 
ampton, and  Huntington,  who  was  admerall  of 
the  fleet  that  belonged  to  the  cinque  ports,  and  the 
lord  Robert  Morley,  admerall  of  the  northerne 
nauie,  had  the  guiding  of  the  foreward,  bearing 
themselues  right  valiantlie,  so  that  at  length  the 
Englishmen  hauing  the  aduantage,  not  onlie  of 
the  sunne,  but  also  of  the  wind  and  tide,  so 
fortunatlie,  that  the  French  fleet  was  driuen  into 
the  streights  of  the  hauen,  in  such  wise  that 
neither  the  souldiers  nor  mariners  could  helpe 
themselves,  in  somuch  that  both  heauen,  sea,  and 
wind  seemed  all  to  haue  conspired  against  the 
Frenchmen.  And  herewith  manie  ships  of  Flan- 
ders ioining  themselues  with  the  English  fleet,  in 
the  end  the  Frenchmen  were  vanquished,  slaine 
and  taken,  their  bhijjs  being  also  either  taken 
bowged,  or  broken. 


190  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

When  night  was  come  vpon  them,  there  were 
thirtie  French  ships,  that  yet  had  not  entred  the 
battell,  the  which  sought  by  couert  of  the  night  to 
haue  stolne  awaie,  and  one  of  them  being  a  mightie 
great  vessell,  called  the  James  of  Deepe,  would 
haue  taken  awaie  with  hir  a  ship  of  Sandwich  that 
belonged  to  the  prior  of  Canturburie  ;  but  by  the 
helpe  of  the  earle  of  Huntington,  after  they  had 
fought  all  the  night  till  the  next  morning,  the 
Englishmen  at  length  preuailed,  and  taking  that 
great  huge  ship  of  Deepe,  found  in  hir  aboue  foure 
hundred  dead  bodies.  To  conclude,  verie  few 
of  the  French  ships  escaped,  except  some  of  their 
smaller  vessels,  and  certeine  gallies  with  their 
admerall  Barbenoir,  who  in  the  beginning  of  the 
battell  got  foorth  of  the  hauen,  aduising  the  other 
capteins  to  doo  the  like,  thereby  to  auoid  the 
danger  which  they  wilfullie  imbraced.  There  died 
in  this  battell  fought  (as  some  write)  on  mid- 
summer daie,  in  the  yeare  aforesaid,  of  French- 
men to  the  number  of  30,000,  of  Englishmen 
about  4000,  or  (as  other  haue  that  lined  in  those 
daies)  not  past  400,  amongst  whom  there  were 
foure  knights  of  great  nobilitie,  as  sir  Thomas 
Monhermere,  sir  Thomas  Latimer,  sir  John  Boteler, 
and  sir  Thomas  Poinings. 

It  is  said  also,  that  the  king  himselfe  was  hurt  in 
the  thigh.  The  two  English  ships  that  had  beene 
taken    the   yeere    before,    the    Edward    and    the 


VASCO    DA    GAM  A  I9I 

Christopher,  were  recoiiered  at  this  time,  amongst 
other  of  the  French  ships  that  were  taken  there. 
Sir  Peter  Bahuchet  was  hanged  vpon  a  crosse  pole 
fastened  to  a  mast  of  one  of  the  ships.  Through 
the  wilfulnesse  of  this  man,  the  Frenchmen 
receiued  this  losse  (as  the  French  chronicles  re- 
port) bicause  he  kept  the  nauie  so  long  within  the 
hauen,  till  they  were  so  inclosed  by  the  English- 
men, that  a  great  number  of  the  Frenchmen  could 
neuer  come  to  strike  stroke,  nor  to  vse  the  shot  of 
their  artillerie,  but  to  the  hurt  of  their  fellows. 
Howsouer  it  was,  the  Englishmen  got  a  famous 
victorie,  to  the  great  comfort  of  themselues,  and 
discomfort  of  their  aduersarics.  The  king  of 
England,  after  he  had  thus  vanquished  his  cnimies, 
remained  on  the  sea  by  the  space  of  three  daies, 
and  then  comming  on  land,  went  to  (jant,  where 
he  was  receiued  of  the  queene  wiih  great  ioy  and 

gladnesse. 

Holinshed. 


Vasco  da  Gama  engages  the  Calicut  Fleet 

(1503)        <iK        <::>        -Qy        -:^ 
(From  The  Three  Voyages ;  Ilakluyt  Sue,  trans.) 

'HEN  they  had  reached  as  far  forward  as  the 
Moorish  ships,  all,  recommending  themselves 
to  the  Lord,  discharged  their  guns,  all  firing  at  the 
flagship ;   and  those  which  passed  forward  went 


W 


192  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

against  the  other  ships,  for  it  was  not  possible  to 
miss  ;  and  they  made  such  haste  to  load  again  that 
they  loaded  the  guns  with  bags  of  powder,  which 
they  had  ready  for  this  purpose  made  to  measure, 
so  that  they  could  load  again  very  speedily.     But 
with  this  first  discharge  our  men  made  such  good 
work  that  they  brought  down  the  mast  of  the  flag- 
ship, which  fell  over  and  stove  in  the  ship  and 
killed  many  Moors  ;  and  another  shot  hit  it  full 
and    passed    through    near    the    poop,    which    it 
shattered  much   and   killed   and   wounded   many 
people  ;  of  the  other  large  ships  three  were  stove 
in  low  down,  so  that  they  foundered  and  went  to 
the  bottom,  many  people  remaining  on  the  water 
swimming,  who  betook  themselves  to  the  paraos 
and  caught  hold  of  the  oars,  so  that  they  could 
not  row,  and  they  could  not  get  out  of  the  way  of 
their   own   ships,    which  came  against  them  and 
capsized  them,  so  that  they  so  much  embarrassed 
one  another  that  they  all  remained  stuck  close  to 
each  other,  and  our  ships  fired  into  them  for  a 
considerable  time,  for  they  fired  into  the  thick  with 
their  heavy  guns,  so  that  they  shattered  many  in 
pieces,  killing  many  people,  on  account  of  which 
there  were  shrieks  and  cries  amongst  the  Moors. 
The  ships  brailed  up  their  sails  to  the  yards  and 
discharged  all  their  guns.     The  Moors,  although 
they    were    in    such    straits,    fired    much   artillery 
which  they  carried,  and  much  of  it  threw  shot  like 


VASCO    DA    GAM A  I  93 

bowls,  and  they  did  not  fight  any  other  way.  Thus 
embarrassed,  the  wind  drove  them  out  to  sea,  so 
that  the  ships  lengthened  their  distance  from 
them,  always  doing  them  much  damage  with  the 
artillery,  because  our  shot  was  much  more  powerful 
than  theirs.  As  at  this  time  the  ships  of  burden 
had  come  up,  Vicente  Sodr^  loosed  his  sails  and 
ran  on  after  the  caravels,  which  were  now  reach- 
ing the  other  squadron  of  the  Moors,  the  captain 
of  which  was  the  Moor  Coja  Kasim,  which  con- 
sisted of  more  than  a  hundred  sail,  but  the  greater 
part  of  them  were  sambuks,  which  he  had  collected 
to  make  a  show  of  a  great  fleet ;  and  these,  seeing 
the  ships  and  caravels  coming,  as  they  left  the 
others  already  routed,  were  greatly  afraid.  But  the 
Moor  held  on  his  course  with  all  his  large  ships 
straight  for  our  ships  to  board  them,  and  Vicente 
Sodrd  did  not  turn  aside  because  he  went  with  all 
his  artillery  ready,  and  Ruy  Lorenzo  Ravasco  and 
Vasco  Fernandes  'linoco,  who  were  in  the  other 
ships,  also  went  prepared.  As  the  wind  freshened 
and  was  better  for  our  ships,  they  made  straight 
for  the  Moorish  flagship  which  came  foremost 
and  in  the  centre  of  the  others,  and  before  closing 
there  was  a  discharge  of  many  shot  ;  and  as  the 
flagship  carried  much  artillery,  one  shot  entered 
the  ship  of  Vasco  Tinoco,  and  killed  him  and  two 
men,  wounding  others  with  splinters  of  wood,  but 
a  shot  from  the  I'orluguesc  ship  look  the  flagsiiip 
O 


194  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

obliquely  and  threw  it  into  disorder,  killing  many 
men,  because  all  the  Moors  showed  themselves 
above,  but  our  men  remained  below,  and  none 
showed  except  the  gunners  and  the  men  who 
assisted  them.  The  Portuguese  ships  kept  their 
steerage  way,  keeping  aloof  from  the  Moorish 
ships,  passing  amongst  them  all,  doing  wonders 
with  their  artillery,  firing  both  broadsides  and 
their  poop  and  forecastle  guns,  as  in  all  directions 
it  was  not  possible  to  miss  ;  the  Moors  also  fired 
much  artillery  which  they  carried,  but  they  were 
small  guns,  and  when  they  passed  near  our  ships 
they  covered  them  with  arrows,  but  they  did  not 
hurt  the  men,  who  lay  hid,  and  so  they  passed 
through  all  the  fleet  of  the  Moors,  and  when  they 
had  passed  the  ships  and  sails  were  covered  with 
arrows,  and  there  were  many  holes  in  the  sails 
and  much  rigging  broken  ;  but  the  Moorish  ships 
were  much  ill-treated,  they  were  shattered  and 
stove  in,  and  many  had  the  masts  and  yards 
shattered,  which  was  the  greatest  advantage  our 

men  obtained. 

Vasco  da  Gama. 


JOHN    LOTHROP    MOTLEY  I 95 

Lepanto  (1571)        ^=^        ^^^^        ^^o 
(From  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic) 

CIX  hundred  vessels  of  war  met  face  to  face. 
Rarely  in  history  had  so  gorgeous  a  scene  of 
martial  array  been  witnessed.  An  October  sun 
gilded  the  thousand  beauties  of  an  Ionian  land- 
scape. Athens  and  Corinth  were  behind  the  com- 
batants, the  mountains  of  Alexander's  Macedon 
rose  in  the  distance  ;  the  rock  of  Sappho  and  the 
heights  of  Actium  were  before  their  eyes.  Since 
the  day  when  the  world  liad  been  lost  and  won 
beneath  that  famous  prouKjntory,  no  such  combat 
as  the  one  now  approaching  had  been  fought  upon 
the  waves.  The  chivalrous  young  commander 
despatched  energetic  messages  to  his  fellow  chief- 
tains, and  now  that  it  was  no  longer  possible  to 
elude  the  encounter,  the  martial  ardor  of  the  allies 
was  kindled.  The  Venetian  High-.Xdmiral  replied 
with  words  of  enthusiasm.  Colonna,  lieutenant  of 
the  league,  answered  his  chief  in  the  language  of 
Saint  Peter;  "Though  I  die,  yet  will  I  not  deny 
thee." 

The  fleet  was  arranged  in  three  divisions.  The 
Ottomans,  not  drawn  up  in  crescent  form,  as  usual, 
had  the  same  triple  disposition.  IJarbarigo  and 
the  other  Venetians  commanded  on  the  left,  John 


196  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

Andrew  Doria  on  the  right,  while  Don  John  him- 
self and  Colonna  were  in  the  centre.  Crucifix  in 
hand,  the  High-Admiral  rowed  from  ship  to  ship, 
exhorting  generals  and  soldiers  to  show  themselves 
worthy  of  a  cause  which  he  had  persuaded  himself 
was  holy.  Fired  by  his  eloquence  and  by  the  sight 
of  the  enemy,  his  hearers  answered  with  eager 
shouts,  while  Don  John  returned  to  his  ship,  knelt 
upon  the  quarter-deck,  and  offered  a  prayer.  He 
then  ordered  the  trumpets  to  sound  the  assault, 
commanded  his  sailing-master  to  lay  him  along- 
side the  Turkish  Admiral,  and  the  battle  began. 
The  Venetians,  who  were  first  attacked,  destroyed 
ship  after  ship  of  their  assailants  after  a  close  and 
obstinate  contest,  but  Barbarigo  fell  dead  ere  the 
sunset,  with  an  arrow  through  his  brain.  Mean- 
time the  action,  immediately  after  the  first  onset, 
had  become  general.  From  noon  till  evening  the 
battle  raged,  with  a  carnage  rarely  recorded  in 
history.  Don  John's  own  ship  lay  yard-arm  and 
yard-arm  with  the  Turkish  Admiral,  and  exposed 
to  the  fire  of  seven  large  vessels  besides.  It  was 
a  day  when  personal  audacity,  not  skilful  tactics, 
was  demanded,  and  the  imperial  bastard  showed 
the  metal  he  was  made  of.  The  Turkish  Admiral's 
ship  was  destroyed,  his  head  exposed  from  Don 
John's  deck  upon  a  pike,  and  the  trophy  became 
the  signal  for  a  general  panic  and  a  complete 
victory.     By  sunset  the  battle  had  been  won. 


JOHN    LOTHROP    MOTLKY  1 97 

Of  nearly  three  hundred  Turkish  galleys,  but 
fifty  made  their  escape.  From  twenty-five  to  thirty 
thousand  Turks  were  slain,  and  perhaps  ten  thou- 
sand Christians.  The  galley-slaves  on  both  sides 
fought  well,  and  the  only  beneficial  result  of  the 
victory  was  the  liberation  of  several  thousand  Chris- 
tian captives.  It  is  true  that  their  liberty  was 
purchased  with  the  lives  of  a  nearly  equal  number 
of  Christian  soldiers,  and  by  the  reduction  to 
slavery  of  almost  as  many  thousand  Mussulmen, 
duly  distributed  among  the  Christian  victors. 
Many  causes  contributed  to  this  splendid  triumph. 
The  Turkish  ships,  inferior  in  number,  were  also 
worse  manned  than  those  of  their  adversaries,  and 
their  men  were  worse  armed.  Every  bullet  of  the 
Christians  told  on  muslin  turbans  and  embroidered 
tunics,  while  the  arrows  of  the  Moslems  fell  harmless 
on  the  casques  and  corslets  of  their  foes.  The 
Turks,  too,  had  committed  the  fatal  error  of  fight- 
ing upon  a  lee  shore.  Having  no  sea  room,  and 
being  repelled  in  their  first  onset,  many  galleys 
were  driven  upon  the  rocks,  to  be  destroyed  with 
all  their  crews. 

John  I.othrop  Motley- 


198  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

The  Spanish  Armada  (158S)        ^:>        ^> 

(From  The  History  of  England) 

A  LL  being  thus  in  order,  the  Prince  of  Parma 
"^  ready  to  embark,  the  paternal  admonition  to 
the  Enghsh  nation  to  commit  treason  prepared  for 
circulation,  and  the  last  touches  added  to  the 
completeness  of  the  fleet  in  the  Tagus,  the  Duke 
of  Medina  Sidonia  sailed  from  Lisbon  on  the 
I9th-29th  of  May.  The  northerly  breeze  which 
prevails  on  the  coast  of  Portugal  was  unusually 
strong.  The  galleons  standing  high  out  of  the 
water,  and  carrying  small  canvas  in  proportion  to 
their  size,  worked  badly  to  windward.  They  were 
three  weeks  in  reaching  Finisterre,  where,  the  wind 
having  freshened  to  a  gale,  they  were  scattered, 
some  standing  out  to  sea,  some  into  the  Bay  of 
Biscay.  Their  orders,  in  the  event  of  such  a 
casualty,  had  been  to  make  for  Ferrol.  The  wind 
shifting  suddenly  to  the  west,  those  that  had  gone 
into  the  Bay  could  not  immediately  reach  it,  and 
were  driven  into  Santander.  The  officers,  how- 
ever, were,  on  the  whole,  well  satisfied  with  the 
qualities  which  the  ships  had  displayed.  A  mast 
or  two  had  been  sprung,  a  few  yards  and  bow- 
sprits had  been  carried  away  ;  but  beyond  loss  of 
time  there  had  been  no  serious  damage. 

The  weather   moderating,  the  fleet  was  again 


JAMES  ANTHONY  FROUDE        1 99 

collected  in  the  Bay  of  Ferrol  by  the  6th- 1 6th  of 
July.  All  repairs  were  completed  by  the  1 1  th-2 1  st, 
and  the  next  day,  the  I2th-22nd,  the  Armada 
took  leave  of  Spain  for  the  last  time. 

The  scene  as  the  fleet  passed  out  of  the  harbour 
must  have  been  singularly  beautiful.  It  was  a 
treacherous  interval  of  real  summer.  The  early 
sun  was  lighting  the  long  chain  of  the  Gallician 
mountains,  marking  with  shadows  the  cleft  defiles, 
and  shining  softly  on  the  white  walls  and  vine- 
yards of  Coruiia.  The  wind  was  light,  and  fall- 
ing towards  a  calm  ;  the  great  galleons  drifted 
slowly  with  the  tide  on  the  purple  water,  the  long 
streamers  trailing  from  llic  trucks,  the  red  crosses, 
the  emblem  of  the  crusade,  shewing  bright  upon 
the  hanging  sails.  The  fruit  boats  were  bringing 
off  the  last  fresh  supplies,  and  the  pinnaces  hasten- 
ing to  the  ships  with  the  last  loiterers  on  shore. 
Out  of  thirty  thousand  men  who  that  morning 
stood  upon  the  decks  of  the  proud  Armada,  twenty 
thousand  and  more  were  never  again  to  see  the 
hills  of  Spain.  Of  the  remnant  who  in  two  short 
months  crept  back  ragged  and  torn,  all  but  a  few 
hundreds  returned  only  to  die. 

The  Spaniards,  though  a  great  people,  were 
usually  over  conscious  of  their  greatness,  and 
boasted  too  loudly  of  their  fame  and  prowess ; 
but  among  the  soldiers  and  sailors  of  the  doomed 
expedition   against    England,   the    national    vain- 


200  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SKA 

glory  was  singularly  silent.  They  were  the  flower 
of  the  country,  called  and  chosen  over  the  entire 
Peninsula,  and  they  were  going  with  a  modest 
nobility  upon  a  service  which  they  knew  to 
be  dangerous,  but  which  they  believed  to  be 
peculiarly  sacred.  Every  one,  seaman,  officer,  and 
soldier,  had  confessed  and  communicated  before 
he  went  on  board.  Gambling,  swearing,  profane 
language  of  all  kinds  had  been  peremptorily  for- 
bidden. Private  quarrels  and  differences  had 
been  made  up  or  suspended.  The  loose  women 
who  accompanied  Spanish  armies,  and  sometimes 
Spanish  ships  to  sea,  had  been  ordered  away,  and 
no  unclean  thing  or  person  permitted  to  defile  the 
Armada  ;  and  in  every  vessel,  and  in  the  whole 
fleet,  the  strictest  order  was  prescribed  and 
observed.  Medina  Sidonia  led  the  way  in  the 
San  Martin^  showing  lights  at  night,  and  firing 
guns  when  the  weather  was  hazy.  Mount's  Bay 
was  to  be  the  next  place  of  rendezvous  if  they 
were  again  separated. 

On  the  first  evening  the  wind  dropped  to  a  calm. 
The  morning  after,  the  I3th-23rd,  a  fair  fresh 
breeze  came  up  from  the  south  and  south-west  ; 
the  ships  ran  flowingly  before  it  ;  and  in  two  days 
and  nights  they  had  crossed  the  bay,  and  were 
off  Ushant.  The  fastest  of  the  pinnaces  was 
dispatched  from  thence  to  Parma,  with  a  letter 
bidding  him  expect  the  Duke's  immediate  coming. 


JAMES  ANTHONY  FROUDE       201 

But  they  had  now  entered  tiie  latitude  of  the 
storms  which  through  the  whole  season  had 
raged  round  the  English  shore.  The  same  night 
a  south-west  gale  overtook  them.  They  lay-to, 
not  daring  to  run  further.  The  four  galleys  unable 
to  keep  the  sea  were  driven  in  upon  the  French 
coast,  and  wrecked.  The  Santa  Ana,  a  galleon  of 
eight  hundred  tons,  went  down,  carrying  with  her 
ninety  seamen,  three  hundred  soldiers,  and  fifty 
thousand  ducats  in  gold.  The  weather  was 
believed  to  be  under  the  peculiar  care  of  God, 
and  this  first  misfortune  was  of  evil  omen  for  the 
future.  The  storm  lasted  two  days,  and  then  the 
sky  cleared,  and,  again  gathering  into  order,  they 
proceeded  on  their  way.  On  the  iyth-29th  they 
were  in  the  mouth  of  the  Channel.  At  daybreak 
on  the  morning  of  the  20th  -30th  the  Li/.ard  was 
under  their  lee,  and  an  English  fishing  boat  was 
hanging  near  them,  counting  their  numbers.  They 
gave  chase  ;  but  the  boat  shot  away  down  wind 
and  disappeared.  They  captured  another  an  hour 
or  two  later,  from  which  they  learnt  the  l-'nglish 
fleet  was  in  Plymouth,  and  Medina  Sidoiiia  called 
a  council  of  war,  to  consider  whether  they  should 
go  in,  and  fall  upon  it  while  at  anchor.  l'hili|)'s 
orders,  however,  were  peremptory  that  they 
should  turn  neither  right  nor  left,  and  make 
straight  for  Margate  roads  and  I'arma.  The 
Duke    was    unenterprising,    and    consciously   un- 


202  THE    CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

equal  to  his  work  ;  and  already  bending  under  his 
responsibilities  he  hesitated  to  add  to  them. 

Had  he  decided  otherwise  it  would  have  made 
no  difference,  for  the  opportunity  was  not  allowed 
him.  Long  before  the  Spaniards  saw  the  Lizard 
they  had  themselves  been  seen,  and  on  the  evening 
of  the  igth-agth,  the  beacons  along  the  coast  had 
told    England    that    the    hour   of   its    trial    had 


.  .  .  Again  a  council  was  held.  The  sickness 
had  become  frightful.  Those  who  had  escaped 
unwounded  were  falling  ill  from  want  and  cold, 
and  the  wounded  were  dying  by  hundreds,  the 
incessant  storms  making  care  and  attention  im- 
possible. Calderon  and  the  French  pilot  insisted 
that  at  all  costs  and  hazards  they  must  keep  off  the 
Irish  coast.  Diego  Florez,  distressed  for  the 
misery  of  the  men,  to  whose  sufferings  want  of 
water  had  become  a  fearful  aggravation,  imagined 
that  along  the  west  shore  there  must  be  a  harbour 
somewhere  ;  and  that  they  would  find  rest  and 
shelter  among  a  hospitable  Catholic  people.  The 
Bishop  of  Killaloe,  a  young  Fitzmaurice,  and  a 
number  of  Irish  friars  were  in  the  fleet.  Diego 
Florez  had  possibly  heard  them  speak  of  their 
country  and  countrymen,  and  there  were  fishing 
connexions  between  Cadiz  and  Valencia  and 
Galway,  which  he  and   many  others  must  have 


JAMES  ANTHONY  FROUDE       203 

known  of,  though  they  had  not  been  on  the  coast 
in  person.  But  the  Irish  themselves  were  with 
Alonzo  da  Leyva,  and  Sidonia  happily  took  the 
opinion  of  the  pilots.  The  day  was  fine  and  the 
sick  were  divided  ;  those  which  could  be  moved 
were  transferred  wherever  there  was  most  room 
for  them,  and  as  Calderon  passed  to  and  fro 
among  the  galleons  with  his  medicines  and  his 
arrowroot,  he  was  received  everywhere  with  the 
eager  question,  where  was  Alonzo  da  Leyva  ? 
There  was  scarcely  a  man  who  did  not  forj^et  his 
own  wretchedness  in  anxiety  for  the  idol  of  ihem 
all. 

The  calm  had  been  but  an  interlude  in  the 
storm.  The  same  night  the  wild  west  wind  came 
down  once  more,  and  for  eleven  consecutive  days 
they  went  on  in  their  misery,  unable  to  communi- 
cate except  by  signals,  holding  to  the  ocean  as  far 
as  their  sailing  powers  would  let  them,  and  seeing 
galleon  after  galleon,  Oquendos  among  them,  fall- 
ing away  to  leeward  amidst  driving  squalls  and 
rain,  on  the  vast  rollers  of  the  Atlantic.  An 
island  which  he  supposed  to  be  ten  leagues  from 
the  coast,  Calderon  [jassed  dangerously  near.  It 
was  perhaps  Acliill,  whose  tremendous  cliffs  fall 
sheer  two  thousand  feet  into  the  sea,  or  perhaps 
Innibbofin  or  Innishark.  On  the  4lh-i4lh  of 
September,  he,  with  Sidonia  and  fifty  vessels,  fifty- 
two  ships  only  out  of  a  liundrcd  and  fifty,  leaking 


204  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

through  every  seam,  and  their  weary  crews  ready 
to  he  down  and  die  from  exhaustion,  crawled  past 
the  Blaskets,  and  were  out  of  danger.    .    .    . 

.  .  .  Another  galleon  of  a  thousand  tons,  named 
Our  Lady  of  the  Rosary^  which  Calderon  had 
watched  sadly  falling  away  before  the  waves,  had 
also  nearly  weathered  the  headland  of  Kerry.  She 
had  all  but  escaped.  Clear  of  the  enormous  cliffs 
of  the  Blasket  Islands,  she  had  no  more  to  fear 
from  the  sea.  Between  the  Blaskets  and  the  main- 
land there  is  a  passage  which  is  safe  in  moderate 
weather,  but  the  gale,  which  had  slightly  moder- 
ated, had  risen  again.  The  waves  as  they  roll  in 
from  the  Atlantic  on  the  shallowing  shores  of 
Ireland  boil  among  the  rocks  in  bad  weather  with 
a  fury  unsurpassed  in  any  part  of  the  ocean. 
Strong  tidal  currents  add  to  the  danger,  and  when 
Our  Lady  of  the  Rosary  entered  the  sound,  it  was 
a  cauldron  of  boiling  foam.  There  were  scarcely 
hands  to  work  the  sails.  Out  of  seven  hundred, 
five  hundred  were  dead,  and  most  of  the  survivors 
were  gentlemen,  and  before  she  was  half-way 
through,  she  struck  among  the  breakers  upon  the 
island.  A  maddened  officer  ran  the  pilot  (a 
Genoese)  through  the  heart,  saying  he  had  done  it 
by  'treason.'  Some  of  the  gentlemen  tried  to 
launch  a  boat,  but  no  boat  could  live  for  a  moment 
in  such  a  sea.     The  pilot's  son  lashed  himself  to  a 


JAMES  ANTHONY  FROUDE      205 

plank,  and  was  washed  on  shore  alone  of  the 
whole  company,  and  all  the  rest  lay  among  cannon 
and  doubloon  chests  amidst  the  rocks  in  Blasket 
Sound.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Such  was  the  fate  of  the  brilliant  chivalry 
of  Spain  ;  the  choicest  representatives  of  the  most 
illustrious  families  in  Europe.  They  had  rushed 
into  the  service  with  an  emotion  pure  and  generous 
as  ever  Templar  to  the  Sepulchre  of  Christ.  They 
believed  that  they  were  the  soldiers  of  the  Almighty. 
Pope  and  Bishop  had  commended  them  to  the 
charge  of  the  angels  and  the  saints.  The  spell 
of  the  names  of  the  Apostles  had  been  shattered 
by  English  cannon.  The  elements,  which  were 
deemed  God's  peculiar  province— as  if  to  dis- 
enchant Christendom,  were  disenchantment  pos- 
sible, of  so  fond  an  illusion — whirled  them  upon  a 
shore  which  the  waves  of  a  hundred  million  years 
had  made  the  most  dangerous  in  the  world ;  there, 
as  they  crawled  half  drowned  through  the  surf,  to 
fall  into  the  jaws  of  the  Irish  wolves. 

James  Anthony  i'roude. 


206  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

Death  of  Sir  Richard  Grenville        ■<:> 

(From   the    Foyage  to  the  East  Indies ;  Hakluyt  Soc, 

trans. ) 
nPHE  13.  of  September  the  saide  Armado  arived 
at  the  Hand  of  Corno,  where  the  Englishmen 
with  about  sixteene  shippes  as  then  lay,  staying 
for  the  Spanish  Pleete  ;  whereof  some  of  the  most 
parte  were  come,  and  there  the  English  were  in 
good  hope  to  have  taken  them.  But  when  they 
perceyved  the  King's  Army  to  be  strong,  the 
Admirall  being  the  Lorde  Thomas  Howard,  com- 
maunded  his  Fleete  not  to  fall  upon  them,  nor 
any  of  them  once  to  separate  their  shippes  from 
him,  unlesse  he  gave  commission  so  to  doe  ;  not- 
withstanding the  Vice  Admirall  Sir  Rychard 
Greenfield'  being  in  the  ship  called  the  Revenge 
went  into  the  Spanish  fleete,  and  shot  among 
them,  doing  them  great  hurte,  and  thinking  the  rest 
of  the  company  would  have  followed  :  which  they 
did  not,  but  left  him  there,  and  sayled  away  :  the 
cause  why  could  not  be  knowne ;  which  the 
Spaniardes  perceiving,  with  seven  or  eight  shippes 
they  horded  her,  but  she  withstood  them  all,  fight- 
ing with  them  at  the  least  12.  houres  together,  and 
sunk  two  of  them,  one  being  a  newe  double  Flie 
boat,  of  12,000  tunnes,  and  Admirall  of  the  PTie 
'   Read  "Greenville." 


LINSCHOTEN  207 

boates,  the  other  a  Biscaine  :  But  in  the  ende  by 
reason  of  the  number  that  came  uppon  her  she 
was  taken,  but  to  their  great  losse  :  for  they  had 
lost  in  fighting,  and  by  drowning  above  400.  men, 
and  of  the  EngHsh  were  slaine  about  a  hundred, 
Sir  Rychard  Greenfield  himselfe  being  wounded  in 
his  braine,  whereof  afterwards  hee  dyed.  He  was 
borne  into  the  ship  called  the  Saint  Paule,  whtrciw 
was  the  Admirall  of  the  fleet  Don  Alonso  de 
Barsan':  there  his  woundes  were  drest  by  the 
Spanish  Surgeons,  but  Don  Alonso  himselfe  would 
neither  see  him,  nor  speake  with  him  :  all  the  rest 
of  the  Captaines  and  Gentlemen  went  to  visite  him, 
and  to  comfort  him  in  his  hard  fortune,  wondring 
at  his  courage,  and  stout  heart,  for  that  he  shewed 
not  any  signe  of  faintnes  nor  changing  of  colour. 
But  feeling  the  hower  of  death  to  approch,  hee 
spake  these  wordes  in  Spanish,  [&  said] :  Here 
die  I  Richard  Greenfield,  with  a  ioyfuU  and  quiet 
mind,  for  that  I  have  ended  my  life  as  a  true 
soldier  ought  to  do,  yt.  hath  fought  for  his 
countrey,  Queene,  religion,  and  honor,  whereby 
my  soule  most  ioyfull  departeth  out  of  this  bodie, 
and  shall  alwaies  leave  bchinde  it  an  everlasting 
fame  of  a  valiant  and  true  soldier,  that  hath  done 
his  dutie,  as  he  was  bound  to  doe.  When  he  had 
finislifcfl  these  [or  such  other  like]  words,  hee  gave 
up  the  Ghost,  with  great  and  stout  courago,  and 
'  Read  "  Hasan." 


2o8  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

no  man  could  perceive  any  true  signe  of  heavi- 

nesse  in  him. 

Linschoten. 


La  Hogue  (1692)        ^o        'O        <:::i>- 

(From  The  History  of  England) 

T^OURVILLE  had  with  him  only  his  own 
squadron,  consisting  of  forty-four  ships  of  the 
line.  But  he  had  received  positive  orders  to  pro- 
tect the  descent  on  England,  and  not  to  decline  a 
battle.  Though  these  orders  had  been  given 
before  it  was  known  at  X'ersailles  that  the  Dutch 
and  English  fleets  had  joined,  he  was  not  disposed 
to  take  on  himself  the  responsibility  of  disobedience. 
He  still  remembered  with  bitterness  the  reprimand 
which  his  extreme  caution  had  drawn  upon  him 
after  the  fight  of  Beachy  Head.  He  would  not 
again  be  told  that  he  was  a  timid  and  unenterpris- 
ing commander,  that  he  had  no  courage  but  the 
vulgar  courage  of  a  common  sailor.  He  was  also 
persuaded  that  the  odds  against  him  were  rather 
apparent  than  real.  He  believed,  on  the  authority 
of  James  and  Melfort,  that  the  English  seamen, 
from  the  flag  officers  down  to  the  cabin  boys,  were 
Jacobites.  Those  who  fought  would  fight  with 
half  a  heart ;  and  there  would  probably  be 
numerous  desertions  at  the  most  critical  moment. 
Animated   by  such  hopes   he  sailed  from  Brest, 


THOMAS    BABINGTON    MACAUI.AY  20g 

Steered  first  towards  the  north-east,  came  in  siglit 
of  the  coast  of  Dorsetshire,  and  then  struck  across 
the  Channel  towards  La  Hogue,  where  the  army 
which  he  was  to  convoy  to  England  had  already 
begun  to  embark  on  board  of  the  transports.  He 
was  within  a  few  leagues  of  Barfleur  when,  before 
sunrise  on  the  morning  of  the  nineteenth  of  May, 
he  saw  the  great  armament  of  the  allies  stretching 
along  the  eastern  horizon.  He  determined  to 
bear  down  on  them.  By  eight  the  two  lines  of 
battle  were  formed  ;  but  it  was  eleven  before  the 
firing  began.  It  soon  became  plain  that  the 
English,  from  the  Admiral  downwards,  were  re- 
solved to  do  their  duty.  Russell  had  visited  all 
his  ships,  and  exhorted  all  his  crews.  "  If  your 
commanders  play  false,"  he  said,  "  overboard  with 
them,  and  with  myself  the  first."  There  was  no 
defection.  There  was  no  slackness.  Carter  was 
the  first  who  broke  the  French  line.  He  was 
struck  by  a  splinter  of  one  of  his  own  yardarms, 
and  fell  dying  on  the  deck.  He  would  not  be 
carried  below.  He  would  not  let  go  his  sword. 
"  Kight  the  ship,"  were  his  last  words  :  "  fight  the 
ship  as  long  as  she  can  swim."  The  battle  lasted 
till  four  in  the  afternoon.  The  roar  of  the  guns 
was  distinctly  heard  more  than  twenty  miles  off  by 
the  army  which  was  encamped  on  the  coast  of 
Normandy.  During  the  e.irlier  part  of  the  day 
the  wind  was  favourable  to  the  French  :  they  were 
P 


2IO  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

opposed    to    only   half  of  the    allied   fleet  ;    and 
against  that  half  they  maintained  the  conflict  with 
their  usual  courage  and  with  more  than  their  usual 
seamanship.     After  a  hard  and  doubtful  fight  of 
five  hours,  Tourville  thought  that  enough  had  been 
done  to  maintain  the  honour  of  the  white  flag,  and 
began  to  draw  off.     But  by  this  time  the  wind  had 
veered,  and  was  with  the  allies.     They  were  now 
able  to  avail  themselves  of  their  great  superiority 
of  force.     They  came  on  fast.     The  retreat  of  the 
French  became  a  flight.     Tourville  fought  his  own 
ship  desperately.     She  was  named,  in  allusion  to 
Lewis's  favourite  emblem,  the  Royal  Sun,  and  was 
widely  renowned  as  the  finest  vessel  in  the  world. 
It  was  reported  among  the  English  sailors  that 
she  was  adorned  with  an  image  of  the  Great  King, 
and  that  he  appeared  there,  as  he  appeared  in  the 
Place   of  Victories,    with   vanquished   nations   in 
chains  beneath  his   feet.     The  gallant  ship,  sur- 
rounded by  enemies,  lay  like  a  great  fortress  on 
the  sea,  scattering  death  on  every  side  from  her 
hundred  and  four  portholes.     She  was  so  formid- 
ably manned  that  all  attempts  to  board  her  failed. 
Long  after  sunset,  she  got  clear  of  her  assailants, 
and,  with  all  her  scuppers  spouting  blood,  made 
for  the  coast  of  Normandy.     She  had  suffered  so 
much  that  Tourville  hastily  removed  his  flag  to  a 
ship    of    ninety    guns    which    was    named    the 
Ambitious.     By  this  time  his  fleet  was  scattered 


THOMAS    RABINGTON    MACAULAY  2  I  I 

far  over  the  sea.  About  twenty  of  his  smallest 
ships  made  their  escape  by  a  road  which  was  too 
perilous  for  any  courage  but  the  courage  of 
despair.  In  the  double  darkness  of  night  and  of 
a  thick  sea  fog,  they  ran,  with  all  their  sails  spread, 
through  the  boiling  waves  and  treacherous  rocks 
of  the  Race  of  Alderney,  and,  by  a  strange  good 
fortune,  arrived  without  a  single  disaster  at  Saint 
Maloes.  The  pursuers  did  not  venture  to  follow 
the  fugitives  into  that  terrible  strait,  the  place  of 
innumerable  shipwrecks.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  Russell  meanwhile  was  preparing  for  an 
attack.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  twenty-third  of 
May  all  was  ready.  A  flotilla  consisting  of  sloops, 
of  fireships,  and  of  two  hundred  boats,  was 
entrusted  to  the  command  of  Rooke.  The  whole 
armament  was  in  the  highest  spirits.  The  rowers, 
flushed  by  success,  and  animated  by  the  thought 
that  they  were  going  to  fight  under  the  eyes  of  the 
F'rench  and  Irish  troops  who  had  been  assemljlod 
for  the  purpose  of  subjugating  England,  pulled 
manfully  and  with  loud  huzzas  towards  the  six 
huge  wooden  castles  which  lay  close  to  Fort 
Lisset.  The  French,  though  an  eminently  brave 
people,  have  always  been  more  liable  to  sudden 
panics  than  their  phlegmatic  neighbours,  tlic  Eng- 
lish and  (Icrmans.  On  this  day  there  was  a  panic 
both    in    the    fleet    and    in    the  army.     Tourville 


212  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

ordered  his  sailors  to  man  their  boats,  and  would 
have  led  them  to  encounter  the  enemy  in  the  bay. 
But  his  example  and  his  exhortations  were  vain. 
His  boats  turned  round  and  fled  in  confusion. 
The  ships  were  abandoned.  The  cannonade  from 
Fort  Lisset  was  so  feeble  and  ill  directed  that  it 
did  no  execution.  The  regiments  on  the  beach, 
after  wasting  a  few  musket  shots,  drew  oft'.  The 
English  boarded  the  men  of  war,  set  them  on  fire, 
and  having  performed  this  great  service  without 
the  loss  of  a  single  life,  retreated  at  a  late  hour 
with  the  retreating  tide.  The  bay  was  in  a  blaze 
during  the  night ;  and  now  and  then  a  loud  ex- 
plosion announced  that  the  flames  had  reached  a 
powder  room  or  a  tier  of  loaded  guns.  At  eight 
the  next  morning  the  tide  came  back  strong  ;  and 
with  the  tide  came  back  Rooke  and  his  two 
hundred  boats.  The  enemy  made  a  faint  attempt 
to  defend  the  vessels  which  were  near  Fort  Saint 
Vaast.  During  a  few  minutes  the  batteries  did 
some  execution  among  the  crews  of  our  skiffs  ; 
but  the  struggle  was  soon  over.  The  French 
poured  fast  out  of  their  ships  on  one  side  :  the 
English  poured  in  as  fast  on  the  other,  and,  with 
loud  shouts,  turned  the  captured  guns  against  the 
shore.  The  batteries  were  speedily  silenced. 
James  and  Melfort,  Bellefonds  and  Tourville, 
looked  on  in  helpless  despondency  while  the 
second  conflagration  proceeded.     The  conquerors. 


ROBERT   SOUTHEY  213 

leaving  the  ships  of  war  in  flames,  made  their 
way  into  an  inner  basin  where  many  transports 
lay.  Eight  of  these  vessels  were  set  on  fire. 
Several  were  taken  in  tow.  The  rest  would  have 
been  either  destroyed  or  carried  off,  had  not  the 
sea  again  begun  to  ebb.  It  was  impossible  to  do 
more  ;  and  the  victorious  flotilla  slowly  retired, 
insulting  the  hostile  camp  with  a  thundering  chant 
of  "  God  save  the  King." 

Thus  ended,  at  noon  on  the  twenty-fourth  of 
May,  the  great  conflict  which  had  raged  during 
five  days  over  a  wide  extent  of  sea  and  shore. 
One  English  fire-ship  had  perished  in  its  calling. 
Sixteen  French  men  of  war,  all  noble  vessels,  and 
eight  of  them  three-deckers,  had  been  sunk  or 
burned  down  to  the  water-edge.  The  battle  is 
called,  from  the  place  where  it  terminated,  the 
battle  of  La  Ilogue. 

Thomas  Haliing/oii  Maaiulay. 

Trafalgar  (1805)        <:::>        -Qy        <:> 

(From  The  Life  of  Ndson) 

A  BOUT  half-past  nine  in  the  morning  of  the 
"^^  19th,  the  Mars,  being  the  nearest  to  the  fleet 
of  the  ships  which  formed  the  line  of  communica- 
tion with  the  frigates  inshore,  repeated  the  signal 
that   the  enemy  were  coming  out  of  port.     The 


214  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

wind  was  at  this  time  very  light,  with  parti;il 
breezes,  mostly  from  the  S.S.W.  Nelson  ordered 
the  signal  to  be  made  for  a  chase  in  the  south-east 
quarter.  About  two,  the  repeating  ships  announced 
that  the  enemy  were  at  sea.  All  night  the  British 
fleet  continued  under  all  sail,  steering  to  the  south- 
east. At  daybreak  they  were  in  the  entrance 
of  the  Straits,  but  the  enemy  were  not  in  sight. 
About  seven,  one  of  the  frigates  made  signal  that 
the  enemy  were  bearing  north.  Upon  this  the 
Victory  hove  to  ;  and  shortly  afterwards  Nelson 
made  sail  again  to  the  northward.  In  the  after- 
noon the  wind  blew  fresh  from  the  south-west, 
and  the  English  began  to  fear  that  the  foe 
might  be  forced  to  return  to  port.  A  little  before 
sunset,  however,  Blackwood,  in  the  Euryalus  tele- 
graphed that  they  appeared  determined  to  go  to 
the  westward.  "And  that,"  said  the  admiral,  in 
his  diary,  "  they  shall  not  do,  if  it  is  in  the  power 
of  Nelson  and  Bronte  to  prevent  them."  Nelson 
had  signified  to  Blackwood  that  he  depended  upon 
him  to  keep  sight  of  the  enemy.  They  were 
observed  so  well,  that  all  their  motions  were  made 
known  to  him ;  and,  as  they  wore  twice,  he  inferred 
that  they  were  aiming  to  keep  the  port  of  Cadiz 
open,  and  would  retreat  there  as  soon  as  they  saw 
the  British  fleet  ;  for  this  reason  he  was  very  care- 
ful not  to  approach  near  enough  to  be  seen  by 
them  during  the  night.    At  daybreak  the  combined 


ROBERT   SOUTHEY  215 

fleets  were  distinctly  seen  from  the  Vjc/orys  deck, 
formed  in  a  close  line  of  battle  ahead,  on  the  star- 
board tack,  about  twelve  miles  to  leeward,  and 
standing  to  the  south.  Our  fleet  consisted  of 
twenty-seven  sail  of  the  line  and  four  frigates  ; 
theirs  of  thirty-three,  and  seven  large  frigates. 
Their  superiority  was  greater  in  size,  and  weight 
of  metal,  than  in  numbers.  They  had  four  thou- 
sand troops  on  board  ;  and  the  best  riflemen  who 
could  be  procured,  many  of  them  Tyrolese,  were 
dispersed  through  the  ships.  Little  did  the 
Tyrolese,  and  little  did  the  Spaniards,  at  that 
day  imagine  what  horrors  the  wicked  tyrant  whom 
they  ser\'ed  was  preparmg  for  their  country !  Soon 
after  daylight  Nelson  came  upon  deck.  The 
2 1  St  October  was  a  festival  in  his  family,  because 
on  that  day  his  uncle,  Captain  Suckling,  in  the 
Dreadnought^  with  two  other  line-of-battlcships, 
had  beaten  off  a  French  squadron  of  four  sail  of 
the  line  and  three  frigates.  Nelson,  with  that 
sort  of  superstition  from  which  few  persons  are 
entirely  exempt,  had  more  than  once  expressed  his 
persuasion  that  this  was  to  be  the  day  of  his 
battle  also  ;  and  he  was  well  pleased  at  seeing 
his  prediction  about  to  be  verified.  The  wind  was 
now  from  the  west,  light  breezes,  with  a  long 
heavy  swell.  Signal  was  made  to  bear  down  upon 
the  enemy  in  two  lines  ;  and  the  fleet  set  all  sail. 
Collingwood,  in  the  Royal  Sovereign^  led  the  lee 


2l6  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

line  of  thirteen  ships  ;  the  Victory  led  the  weather 
line  of  fourteen.  .  .  . 

Blackwood  went  on  board  the  Victory  about  six. 
He  found  him  in  good  spirits,  but  very  calm  ;  not 
in  that  exhilaration  which  he  had  felt  upon  enter- 
ing into  battle  at  Aboukir  and  Copenhagen  ;  he 
knew  that  his  own  life  would  be  particularly  aimed 
at,  and  seems  to  have  looked  for  death  with  almost 
as  sure  an  expectation  as  for  victory.  His  whole 
attention  was  fixed  upon  the  enemy.  They  tacked 
to  the  northward,  and  formed  their  Hne  on  the 
larboard  tack  ;  thus  bringing  the  shoals  of 
Trafalgar  and  St.  Pedro  under  the  lee  of  the 
British,  and  keeping  the  port  of  Cadiz  open  for 
themselves.  This  was  judiciously  done  ;  and 
Nelson,  aware  of  all  the  advantages  which  it 
gave  them,  made  signal  to  prepare  to  anchor. 
Villeneuve  was  a  skilful  seaman,  worthy  of  serving 
a  better  master  and  a  better  cause.  His  plan  of 
defence  was  as  well  conceived,  and  as  original,  as 
the  plan  of  attack.  He  formed  the  fleet  in  a 
double  line,  every  alternate  ship  being  about  a 
cable's  length  to  windward  of  her  second  ahead 
and  astern.  Nelson,  certain  of  a  triumphant  issue 
to  the  day,  asked  Blackwood  what  he  should  con- 
sider as  a  victory.  That  officer  answered,  that, 
considering  the  handsome  way  in  which  battle  was 
offered  by  the  enemy,  their  apparent  determination 


ROBERT    SOUTH EY  217 

for  a  fair  trial  of  strength,  ami  the  situation  of  the 
land,  he  thought  it  would  be  a  glorious  result  if 
fourteen  were  captured.  He  replied  :  "  I  shall  not 
be  satisfied  with  less  than  twenty."  Soon  after- 
wards he  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  there 
was  a  signal  wanting.  Captain  Blackwood  made 
answer  that  he  thought  the  whole  fleet  seemed 
very  clearly  to  understand  what  they  were  about. 
These  words  were  scarcely  spoken  before  that  signal 
was  made  which  will  be  lemembered  as  long  as 
the  lauguage,  or  even  the  memory  of  England, 
shall   endure  — Nelson's  last   signal — "engl.\nd 

EXPECTS     EVERY     MAN    TO    DO    HIS    DUTY!"      It 

was  received  throughout  the  fleet  with  a  shout 
of  answering  acclamation,  made  sublime  by  the 
spirit  which  it  breathed  and  the  feeling  which  it 
expressed.  "  Now,"  said  Lord  Nelson,  "  I  can  do 
no  more.  We  must  trust  to  the  Great  Disposer  of 
all  events,  and  the  justice  of  our  cause.  I  thank 
God  for  this  great  opportunity  of  doing  my  duty." 

He  wore  that  day,  as  usual,  his  admiral's  frock 
coat,  bearing  on  the  left  breast  four  stars  of  the 
different  orders  with  which  he  was  invested.  Orna- 
ments which  rendered  him  so  conspicuous  a  mark 
for  the  enemy,  were  beheld  with  ominous  appre- 
hensions by  his  officers.  It  was  known  that  there 
were  riflemen  on  board  the  Krench  ships  ;  and  it 
could  not  be  doubled  but  that  his  life  would  be 
particularly  aimed  at.     They  communicated  their 


2l8  THE    CALL    OF    THE   SEA 

fears  to  each  other  ;  and  the  surgeon,  Mr.  Beatty, 
spoke  to  the  chaplain,  Dr.  Scott,  and  to  Mr.  Scott, 
the  pubHc   secretary,  desiring  that  some   person 
would  entreat  him  to  change  his  dress,  or  cover 
the   stars  :    but   they   knew   that   such   a   request 
would  highly  displease  him.    "  In  honour  I  gained 
them,"  he  had  said  when  such  a  thing  had  been 
hinted  to  him  formerly,  "and  in  honour  I  will  die 
with  them."     Mr.  Beatty,  however,  would  not  have 
been  deterred   by   any   fear   of  exciting  his   dis- 
pleasure, from  speaking  to  him   himself  upon  a 
subject  in  which  the  weal  of  England  as  well  as 
the   life   of  Nelson   was   concerned,   but   he   was 
ordered  from  the  deck  before  he  could  find  an 
opportunity.   This  was  a  point  upon  which  Nelson's 
officers  knew  that  it  was  hopeless  to  remonstrate 
or  reason  with  him  ;  but  both  Blackwood,  and  his 
own    captain,    Hardy,   represented    to    him    how 
advantageous  to  the  fleet  it  would  be  for  him  to 
keep  out  of  action  as  long  as  possible  ;  and  he 
consented  at   last  to  let  the  Leviathan   and  the 
Teineraire^\v\\\c\v  were  sailing  abreast  of  the  Victory^ 
be  ordered  to  pass  ahead.  Yet  even  here  the  last  in- 
firmity of  this  noble  mind  was  indulged  ;  for  these 
ships  could  not  pass  ahead  if  the    Victory  con- 
tinued to  carry  all  her  sail ;  and  so  far  was  Nelson 
from  shortening  sail,  that  it  was  evident  he  took 
pleasure  in  pressing  on  and  rendering  it  impos- 
sible for  them  to  obey  his  own  orders.     A  long 


ROBERT   SOUTHEY  219 

swell  was  setting  into  the  Bay  of  Cadiz  :  our  ships, 
crowding  all  sail,  moved  majestically  before  it, 
with  light  winds  from  the  south-west.  The  sun 
shone  on  the  sails  of  the  enemy  ;  and  their  well- 
formed  line,  with  their  numerous  three-deckers, 
made  an  appearance  which  any  other  assailants 
would  have  thought  formidable  ;  but  the  British 
sailors  only  admired  the  beauty  and  the  splendour 
of  the  spectacle  ;  and,  in  full  confidence  of  win- 
ning what  they  saw,  remarked  to  each  other,  what 
a  fine  sight  yonder  ships  would  make  at  Spithead  ! 
The  French  admiral  from  the  Bucentaure,  beheld 
the  new  manner  in  which  his  enemy  was  advan- 
cing. Nelson  and  Collingwood  each  leading  his 
line  ;  and  pointing  them  out  to  his  officers,  he  is 
said  to  have  exclaimed,  that  such  conduct  could 
not  fail  to  be  successful.  Yet  Villeneuve  had  made 
his  own  dispositions  with  the  utmost  skill,  and 
the  fleets  under  his  command  waited  for  the  attack 
with  perfect  coolness.  Ten  minutes  before  twelve 
they  opened  their  lire.  ?2ight  or  nine  of  the  ships 
immediately  ahead  of  the  Victory,  and  across  her 
bows,  fired  single  guns  at  her,  to  ascertain  whether 
she  was  yet  within  their  range.  As  soon  as  Nelson 
perceived  that  their  shot  passed  over  him,  he 
desired  Blackwood,  and  Captain  Prowse,  of  the 
Sirius,  to  repair  to  their  respective  frigates ; 
and,  on  their  way,  to  tell  all  the  captains  of  the 
line-of-battle    ships    that    he    depended   on    their 


220  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

exertions  ;  and  that,  if  by  the  prescribed  mode  of 
attack  they  found  it  impracticable  to  get  into  action 
immediately,  they  might  adopt  whatever  they 
thought  best,  provided  it  led  them  quickly  and 
closely  alongside  an  enemy.  As  they  were  stand- 
ing on  the  front  of  the  poop,  Blackwood  took  him 
by  the  hand,  saying,  he  hoped  soon  to  return  and 
find  him  in  possession  of  twenty  prizes.  He  re- 
plied :  "  God  bless  you,  Blackwood :  I  shall  never 
see  you  again." 

Nelson's  column  was  steered  about  two  points 
more  to  the  north  than  CoUingwood's,  in  order  to 
cut  off  the  enemy's  escape  into  Cadiz  :  the  lee  line, 
therefore,  was  first  engaged.  "  See,"  cried  Nelson, 
pointing  to  the  Royal  Sovereign,  as  she  steered 
right  for  the  centre  of  the  enemy's  line,  cut 
through  it  astern  of  the  Santa  Anna,  three-decker, 
and  engaged  her  at  the  muzzle  of  her  guns  on  the 
starboard  side :  "  see  how  that  noble  fellow, 
CoUingwood,  carries  his  ship  into  action  ! "  Colling- 
wood,  delighted  at  being  first  in  the  heat  of  the 
fire,  and  knowing  the  feelings  of  his  commander 
and  old  friend,  turned  to  his  captain  and  exclaimed, 
"  Rotherham,  what  would  Nelson  give  to  be  here  !  " 
Both  these  brave  officers,  perhaps,  at  this  moment 
thought  of  Nelson  with  gratitude,  for  a  circum- 
stance which  had  occurred  on  the  preceding  day. 
Admiral  CoUingwood,  with  some  of  the  captains, 
having  gone  on  board  the  Victory,  to  receive  in- 


ROBERT   SOUTHEY  22  1 

structions,  Nelson  inquired  of  him  where  his 
captain  was,  and  was  told,  in  reply,  that  they  were 
not  upon  good  terms  with  each  other.  "  Terms  I " 
said  Nelson  ; — "  good  terms  with  each  other  !  " 
Immediately  he  sent  a  boat  for  Captain  Rotherham ; 
led  him,  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  to  Collingwood, 
and  saying,  "  Look  ;  yonder  are  the  enemy  I"  bade 
them  shake  hands  like  Englishmen. 

The  enemy  continued  to  fire  a  gun  at  a  time  at 
the  Victory,  till  they  saw  that  a  shot  had  passed 
through  her  main-top  gallant-sail  ;  then  they 
opened  their  broadsides,  aiming  chiefly  at  her 
rigging,  in  the  hope  of  disabling  her  before  she 
could  close  with  them.  Nelson  as  usual,  had 
hoisted  several  flags,  lest  one  should  be  shot 
away.  The  enemy  showed  no  colours  till  late  in 
the  action,  when  they  began  to  feel  the  necessity 
of  having  them  to  strike.  For  this  reason,  the 
Santissima  Trinidad,  Nelson's  old  acquaintance, 
as  he  used  to  call  her,  was  distinguishable  only  by 
her  four  decks  ;  and  to  the  bows  of  this  opponent 
he  ordered  the  Victory  to  be  steered.  Meantime  an 
incessant  raking  fire  was  kept  up  upon  the  Victor}'. 
The  admiral's  secretary  was  one  of  the  first  who  fell  : 
he  was  killed  by  a  cannon  shot,  while  conversing 
with  Hardy.  Captain  Adair,  of  the  marines,  with 
the  help  of  a  sailor,  endeavoured  to  remove  the 
body  from  Nelson's  sight,  who  had  a  great  regard 
for  Mr.  Scott;  but  he  anxiously  asked,  "Is  that 


222  THK   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

poor  Scott  that's  gone?"  and  being  informed  that 
it  was  indeed  so,  exclaimed,  "  Poor  fellow ! " 
Presently  a  double-headed  shot  struck  a  party 
of  marines,  who  were  drawn  up  on  the  poop, 
and  killed  eight  of  them  :  upon  which  Nelson 
immediately  desired  Captain  Adair  to  disperse  his 
men  round  the  ship,  that  they  might  not  suffer  so 
much  from  being  together.  A  few  minutes  after- 
wards a  shot  struck  the  fore  brace-bits  on  the 
quarter-deck,  and  passed  between  Nelson  and 
Hardy,  a  splinter  from  the  bit  tearing  off  Hardy's 
buckle  and  bruising  his  foot.  Both  stopped,  and 
looked  anxiously  at  each  other,  each  supposing 
the  other  to  be  wounded.  Nelson  then  smiled, 
and  said,  "  This  is  too  warm  work,  Hardy,  to  last 
long." 

The  Victory  had  not  yet  returned  a  single  gun  : 
fifty  of  her  men  had  been  by  this  time  killed  or 
wounded,  and  her  main-topmast,  with  all  her 
studding  sails  and  their  booms  shot  away.  Nelson 
declared  that,  in  all  his  battles,  he  had  seen  nothing 
which  surpassed  the  cool  courage  of  his  crew  on 
this  occasion.  At  four  minutes  after  twelve  she 
opened  her  fire  from  both  sides  of  her  deck.  It 
was  not  possible  to  break  the  enemy's  line  without 
running  on  board  one  of  their  ships  :  Hardy  in- 
formed him  of  this,  and  asked  which  he  would 
prefer.  Nelson  replied  :  "Take  your  choice,  Hardy, 
it  does  not  signify  much."    The  master  was  then 


ROBERT   SOUTHEY  223 

ordered  to  put  the  helm  to  port,  and  the  Victory 
ran  on  board  the  Redoubtable^  just  as  her  tiller 
ropes  were  shot  away.  The  French  ship  received 
her  with  a  broadside  ;  then  instantly  let  down 
her  lower  deck  ports,  for  fear  of  being  boarded 
through  them,  and  never  afterwards  fired  a  great 
gun  during  the  action.  Her  tops,  like  those  of 
all  the  enemy's  ships,  were  filled  with  riflemen. 
Nelson  never  placed  musketry  in  his  tops  ;  he 
had  a  strong  dislike  to  the  practice  ;  not  merely 
because  it  endangers  setting  fire  to  the  sails,  but 
also  because  it  is  a  murderous  sort  of  warfare,  by 
which  individuals  may  suffer,  and  a  conunander, 
now  and  then,  be  picked  oft',  but  which  never  can 
decide  the  fate  of  a  general  engagement. 

Captain  Harvey,  in  the  Temeraire^  fell  on  board 
the  Redoubtable  on  the  other  side.  Another  enemy 
was  in  like  manner  on  board  the  Teincraire :  so 
that  these  four  ships  formed  as  compact  a  tier  as 
if  they  had  been  moored  together,  their  heads 
lying  all  the  same  way.  The  lieutenants  of  the 
Victory^  seeing  this,  depressed  their  guns  of  the 
middle  and  lower  decks,  and  fired  with  a  diminished 
charge,  lest  the  shot  should  pass  through  and 
injure  the  Tcmeraire.  And  because  there  was 
danger  that  the  Redoubtable  might  take  fire  from 
the  lower-deck  guns,  the  muzzles  of  which  touched 
her  side  when  they  were  run  out,  the  fireman 
of  each  gun  stood  ready  with  a  bucket  of  water, 


2  24  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

which,  as  soon  as  the  gun  was  discharged,  he 
dashed  into  the  hole  made  by  the  shot.  An  inces- 
sant fire  was  kept  up  from  the  Victory  from  both 
sides  ;  her  larboard  guns  playing  upon  the  Bitcen- 
taure  and  the  huge  Santissiina  Trinidad.  It  had 
been  part  of  Nelson's  prayer,  that  the  British  fleet 
might  be  distinguished  by  humanity  in  the  victory 
which  he  expected.  Setting  an  example  himself, 
he  twice  gave  orders  to  cease  firing  upon  the 
Redanbiable,  supposing  that  she  had  struck,  be- 
cause her  great  guns  were  silent ;  for,  as  she 
carried  no  flag,  there  was  no  means  of  instantly 
ascertaining  the  fact.  From  this  ship,  which  he 
had  thus  twice  spared,  he  received  his  death.  A 
ball  fired  from  her  mizzen-top,  which,  in  the  then 
situation  of  the  two  vessels,  was  not  more  than 
fifteen  yards  from  that  part  of  the  deck  where  he 
was  standing,  struck  the  epaulette  on  his  left 
shoulder,  about  a  quarter  after  one,  just  in  the 
heat  of  the  action.  He  fell  upon  his  face,  on  the 
spot  which  was  covered  with  his  poor  secretary's 
blood.  Hardy,  who  was  a  few  steps  from  him, 
turning  round,  saw  three  men  raising  him  up. 
"  They  have  done  for  me  at  last,  Hardy,"  said  he. 
"I  hope  not!"  cried  Hardy,  "Yes,"  he  replied; 
"  my  back  bone  is  shot  through."  Yet  even  now, 
not  for  a  moment  losing  his  presence  of  mind,  he 
observed,  as  they  were  carrying  him  down  the 
ladder,  that  the  tiller  ropes,  which  had  been  shot 


ROBERT   SOUTHEY  225 

away,  were  not  yet  replaced,  and  ordered  that  new 
ones  should  be  rove  immediately  : — then,  that  he 
might  not  be  seen  by  the  crew,  he  took  out  his 
handkerchief,  and  covered  his  face  and  his  stars. 
Had  he  but  concealed  these  badges  of  honour 
from  the  enemy,  England,  perhaps,  would  not  have 
had  cause  to  receive  with  sorrow  the  news  of  the 
battle  of  Trafalgar 

Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  Nelson  was 
wounded,  about  fifty  of  the  Victory's  men  fell  by 
the  enemy's  musketry.  They,  however,  on  their 
part,  were  not  idle  ;  and  it  was  not  long  before 
there  were  only  two  F'renchmen  left  alive  in  the 
mizzen-top  of  the  Redoubtable.  One  of  them  was 
the  man  who  had  given  the  fatal  wound  :  he  did 
not  live  to  boast  of  what  he  had  done.  An 
old  quartermaster  had  seen  him  fire  ;  and  easily 
recognised  him,  because  he  wore  a  glazed  cocked 
hat  and  a  white  frock.  This  quartermaster,  and 
two  midshipmen,  Mr.  Collingwood  and  Mr.  Pol- 
lard, were  the  only  persons  left  on  the  Victory's 
poop  ;  the  two  midshipmen  kept  firing  at  the  top, 
and  he  supplied  them  with  cartridges.  One  of 
the  Frenchmen,  attempting  to  make  his  escape 
down  the  rigging,  was  sIkjI  by  Mr.  I'ollard,  and 
fell  on  the  poop.  But  the  old  (|uartermaster,  as 
he  cried  out,  "That's  he,  that's  he,"  and  pointed  at 
the  other,  who  was  coming  forward  to  fire  again 


226  THE   CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

received  a  shot  in  his  mouth,  and  fell  dead.  Both 
the  midshipmen  then  fired,  at  the  same  time,  and 
the  fellow  dropped  in  the  top.  When  they  took 
possession  of  the  prize,  they  went  into  the  mizzen- 
top,  and  found  him  dead  ;  with  one  ball  through 
his  head,  and  another  through  his  breast.  The 
Redoubtable  struck  within  twenty  minutes  after 
the  fatal  shot  had  been  fired  from  her.  During 
that  time  she  had  been  twice  on  fire — in  her  fore 
chains  and  in  her  forecastle.  The  French,  as  they 
had  done  in  other  battles,  made  use,  in  this,  of 
fireballs  and  other  combustibles — implements  of 
destruction  which  other  nations,  from  a  sense  of 
honour  and  humanity,  have  laid  aside — which  add 
to  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded,  without  deter- 
mining the  issue  of  the  combat — which  none  but 
the  cruel  would  employ,  and  which  never  can  be 
successful  against  the  brave.  Once  they  succeeded 
in  setting  fire,  from  the  Redoubtable^  to  some  ropes 
and  canvas  on  the  Victory's  booms.  The  cry  ran 
through  the  ship,  and  reached  the  cockpit ;  but 
even  this  dreadful  cry  produced  no  confusion  :  the 
men  displayed  that  perfect  self-possession  in  danger 
by  which  English  seamen  are  characterised  :  they 
extinguished  the  flames  on  board  their  own  ship, 
and  then  hastened  to  extinguish  them  in  the 
enemy,  by  throwing  buckets  of  water  from  the 
gangway.  When  the  Redoubtable  had  struck,  it 
was  not  practicable  to  board  her  from  the  Victory; 


ROBERT   SOUTHEY  227 

for,  though  the  two  ships  touched,  tlie  upper  works 
of  both  fell  in  so  much,  that  there  was  a  great 
space  between  their  gangways  ;  and  she  could  not 
be  boarded  from  the  lower  or  middle  decks,  be- 
cause her  ports  were  down.  Some  of  our  men 
went  to  Lieutenant  Quilliam,  and  offered  to  swim 
under  her  bows  and  get  up  there :  but  it  was 
thought  unfit  to  hazard  brave  lives  in  this  manner. 
What  our  men  would  have  done  from  gallantry, 
some  of  the  crew  of  the  Santissinui  Trinidad  did 
to  save  themselves.  Unable  to  stand  the  tremend- 
ous fire  of  the  Victory^  whose  larboard  guns  played 
against  this  great  four-decker,  and  not  knowing 
how  else  to  escape  them,  nor  where  else  to  betake 
themselves  for  protection,  many  of  them  leapt 
overboard,  ami  swam  to  the  Victory;  anil  were 
actually  helped  up  her  sides  by  the  Enj^lish  during 
the  action.  The  .Spaniards  began  the  battle  with 
less  vivacity  than  their  unworthy  allies,  but  they 
continued  it  with  greater  firmness.  '\)\&  Ar^otitiuta 
and  Bahama  were  defended  till  they  had  each  lost 
about  four  hundred  men  :  the  .SV.  Juan  Nepomu- 
ceno  lost  three  hundred  and  fifty.  Often  as  the 
superiority  of  Hritish  courage  has  been  |)roved 
against  P'rancc  upon  the  seas,  it  was  never  more 
conspicuous  than  in  this  decisive  conflict.  Five  of 
our  ships  were  engaged  muzzle  to  muz/Ie  with  five 
of  the  f'rcnch.  In  all  five  the  Frenchmen  lowered 
their  lower-deck  jjoils,  and  deserted  their  guns; 


228  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

while  our  men  continued  deliberately  to  load  and 
fire,  till  they  had  made  the  victory  secure. 

Robert  Sotithey. 
Affair  of  the  Chesapeake  and  Shannon  (1813) 

(From  Biitain's  Sea- Kings  atid  Sea-Figlits) 

TT  OWEVER  galling  it  had  been  to  the  British 
to  see  frigate  after  frigate  beaten,  there  was 
one  man  who  had  "  spotted ''  the  secret  of  the 
Americans'  success.  This  was  Captain  Philip 
Bowes  Vere  Broke,  of  the  Shannon.  He  knew  that 
the  British  sailors  possessed  the  same  fine  sea- 
manly  qualities  as  of  yore,but  that  their  captains  had 
allowed  drill  to  go  rusty,  and  paid  far  too  much 
attention  to  the  polishing  of  brass  and  the  holy- 
stoning of  decks.  Aboard  his  ship  he  had  his 
men  well  in  hand  :  in  musketry  and  broadsword 
exercise  they  were  as  perfect  as  three  hours'  daily 
drill  could  make  them,  and  the  great  guns  were 
fired  twice  a  week — a  pound  of  'bacca  every  time 
a  man  sent  a  shot  through  the  bull's-eye.  It  was 
odd  that  public  opinion  looked  to  Broke  as  the 
man  to  retrieve  Britain's  glory.  With  this  object 
in  view  he  had  taken  the  Shannon  to  the  United 
States,  destroying  all  his  captures  rather  than  re- 
duce his  crew  by  manning  and  sending  in  his 
prizes.     To  Captain  John  Lawrence,  of  the  Chesa- 


JAMES    A.    MANSON  229 

peake.  Broke  sent  several  messages  inviting  him  to 
come  out  of  Boston  harbour  and  try  conclusions 
in  the  open.  Probably  these  never  reached  him. 
At  all  events,  as  15roke  got  no  answer  he  at  last 
indited  a  polite  letter  to  Lawrence  requesting  the 
favour  of  a  ship-to-ship  meeting.  This  challenge 
— which  queerly  recalls,  though  its  author  was  the 
reverse  of  a  braggart,  the  missive  sent  by  Sir  John 
Cope  from  Dunbar  to  Prince  Charlie — was  dated  on 
the  istof  June,"theGlorious  First,''butere  it  reached 
its  destination.  Captain  Broke  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  from  his  masthead — whilst  his  men  were 
dining — the  Chesapeake  fire  a  gun,  leave  her  moor- 
ings, and  make  way  towards  him.  Lawrence,  not 
to  be  outdone  in  chivalry  and  courtesy,  had  sent 
ashore  five  of  his  guns,  so  as  to  equalise  the  arma- 
ment. Each  vessel  carried  twenty-five  broadside 
guns,  but  the  Shannon  only  mustered  306  men 
to  the  Chesapeake's  376,  and  the  tonnage  of  the 
former  was  1066  to  the  latler's  1135.  We  have 
seen,  however,  that  Broke  had  an  admirably 
trained  and  disciplined  crew — 'tis  said  he  kept 
his  decks  constantly  cleared  for  action— and  he 
was  probably  more  than  satisfied  to  accept  battle 
as  he  stood. 

It  almost  reads  like  an  account  (^f  one  c>f  those 
yacht  races  for  the  America  Cup,  to  which  Sir 
Thomas  Lipton'.s  patriotic  ambition  has  .iccus- 
tomed  us,   to   learn    that   as   the   Chesapeake  left 


230  THE   CALL   OK   THE   SEA 

the  harbour  she  was  accompanied  by  scores  of 
pinnaces,  yachts,  pleasure-boats,  barges,  and  a 
schooner  gunboat  bearing  several  American  naval 
officers — all  longing  to  see  the  fun.  Bostonian 
hearts  beat  high,  and  balls  and  suppers  had 
already  been  ordered  for  the  return  of  the  conquer- 
ing heroes.  In  one  particular  they  set  an  example 
which  the  moderns  have  not  yet  copied — there 
was  no  difficulty  about  keeping  the  course  ;  every 
boatload  of  sightseers  was  most  scrupulously 
anxious  to  draw  up  well  out  of  reach  of  the  guns. 
At  five  minutes  to  i  p.m.  the  Sha/uwn  stood  out 
to  sea  under  easy  sail,  and  at  one  o'clock  the 
Chesapeake  rounded  Boston  lighthouse  after  her. 
When  Captain  Broke  had  got  well  into  the  open 
he  shortened  sail  to  permit  his  opponent  to  over- 
take him.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  the 
Chesapeake  drew  near.  She  was  then  seen  to  be 
flying  three  ensigns  :  at  the  main  floated  the  Stars 
and  Stripes,  and  at  the  fore  she  displayed  a  big 
white  banner  with  the  legend,  "  Sailor's  Rights 
and  Free  Trade."  The  motto  implied  Jack  Tar's 
right  to  sail  in  any  bottom  he  pleased  (a  dig  at 
the  search  business),  and  the  country's  right  to 
trade  without  the  leave  of  Great  Britain,  or  France, 
or  any  other  Power. 

At  5.10  p.m.  Captain  Broke  ordered  his  drums 
to  beat  to  quarters,  and  the  crew  stood  to  their 
guns.      Luckily   the   wind    had   fallen   light,   and 


JAMES    A.    MANSON  23 1 

there  was  little  way  on  the  vessel.  Even-thing 
promised  a  fair  and  square  fight.  Within  half  an 
hour  the  Chesapeake  was  only  two  hundred  yards 
away,  and  Broke  seized  the  opportunity  for  a  few 
final  words  to  his  men,  urging  them  to  remember 
that  to  their  keeping  had  been  conmiitted  the  duty 
of  asserting  the  superiority  of  Britisli  seamen  over 
those  of  any  other  nation.  We  can  almost  hear 
the  emphatic  "  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  of  the  bronzed  tars. 
At  this  stage  the  Shannon  gave  three  cheers  on 
their  own  account,  which  was  readily  taken  up  by 
the  bystanding  boats,  stationed  as  we  have  seen, 
at  quite  a  respectful  distance. 

And  now  the  fateful  moment  had  come.  The 
duellists  were  but  a  stone's  throw  apart.  At  ten 
minutes  to  six  William  Mindham,  captain  of  the 
gun,  discharged  the  Shannon's  aftermost  main- 
deck  gun.  It  was  aimed  with  exquisite  precision, 
as  was  the  next,  fired  immediately  afterwards,  both 
doing  terrible  execution.  The  Chesapeake  then 
sent  in  a  stinging  retort,  and  by  and  by  both  ships 
were  hotly  engaged,  broadside  after  broadside 
being  discharged  as  fast  as  the  guns  were  loaded 
and  trained.  From  the  very  first  the  superior 
accuracy  of  lirokc's  gunners  as;>crtcd  itself  Almost 
every  shot  produced  yells  of  .mguish,  and  splinters 
rose  up  in  clouds.  The  Chesapeake  forj^ing  ahead 
too  rapidly  was  haulcfl  up,  l)ut  with  helm  untouched 
(the   man    at   the    wheel   was   probably   slain  or 


232  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SEA 

wounded)  and  rigging  and  masts  shot  away,  she 
came  round  so  sharply  as  to  stop  ahnost  entirely 
dead,  and  lying  thus  she  got  a  dreadful  punish- 
ment from  her  splendidly  served  foe.  By  six 
o'clock  she  actually  drifted  back  upon  the 
Shannon.  Broke's  boarders  were  quite  ready, 
and,  sword  in  hand,  headed  by  their  gallant 
captain,  they  leaped  upon  the  quarter-deck  of  the 
Chesapeake  and  cleared  the  gangways  with  a 
furious  charge.  No  man  withstood  that  onset  of 
British  sailors  armed  with  pike  and  bayonet,  with 
cutlass  and  pistol.  The  handful  of  Americans 
who  tried  to  stem  the  torrent  were  borne  towards 
the  forecastle,  where  they  soon  choked  the  hatch- 
way in  their  panic.  Some,  terror-stricken,  jumped 
into  the  sea  ;  others  submitted  and  were  confined 
in  the  forecastle.  Aboard  the  Chesapeake  chaos 
had  come  again.  Lawrence,  her  brave  and  honour- 
able captain,  lay  dying,  and  most  of  her  officers 
were  killed  or  hurt.  A  few  men  in  the  shrouds, 
however,  kept  up  a  brisk  and  galling  fire.  Broke 
turned  aside  to  order  this  to  be  put  down.  A 
warning  cry  from  the  sentry  over  the  prisoners 
in  the  forecastle  made  him  glance  round,  and  just 
in  the  nick  of  time.  Three  stalwart  Yankees  had 
picked  up  weapons  and  were  rushing  upon  him 
savagely.  He  parried  one  man's  pike  and  damaged 
the  fellow's  face.  The  second  man  laid  bare 
Broke's   skull   and    partially   stunned   him.     The 


JAMES    A.    MANSON  233 

third  cut  the  captain  down  and  was  immediately 
cut  down  himself  for  his  pains.  Meanwhile  a 
gallant  middy,  Bill  Smith  by  name,  and  six  sailors 
had  jumped  on  the  Chesapeake's  main-yard  and 
silenced  the  firing  in  her  main-top.  Smith  then 
came  down  to  help  Mindham,  and  another  man 
attended  to  the  captain's  injuries.  Whilst  having 
his  head  bandaged,  Hroke  saw  his  old  ensign  go 
up  over  the  Yankee's  colours,  and  was  satisfied. 
He  was  conveyed  to  the  Chesapeake's  quarter  deck 
and  seated  on  a  gun.  A  bungle  in  the  changing 
of  the  colours,  however,  cost  the  life  of  the 
Shannon's  first  lieutenant,  Mr.  Watt.  Haulint; 
down  the  American  flag,  he  bent  the  English 
ensign  below  instead  of  above  it,  and  ran  it  up. 
The  blunder  was  observed  before  the  flags  were 
half  way  up  to  the  mizzen  peak  ;  but  ere  it  could 
be  rectified  the  men  on  the  Shannon,  seeing  the 
Stripes  go  up  first,  concluded  the  fighting  was  not 
yet  done,  and  unwittingly  began  firing  on  their 
own  folk  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  Chesapeake, 
Mr.  Watt  being  killed  and  several  men  wounded. 
As  sof)n  as  the  Hritish  ensign  was  hoisted  properly 
they  recognised  their  disastrous  error  and  ceased 
firing.  Even  now  it  seemed  the  Americans  had 
not  yet  had  enough,  for  they  fired  from  the  hold 
and  slew  the  sentry.  At  this  the  British,  justly 
incensed,  poured  a  volley  into  the  hold,  which 
fetched  instant  shrieks  for  mercy.     Captain  Broke 


234  THE    CALL    OF   THE   SEA 

sent  word  that  they  must  surrender  at  once  if  they 
wished  for  quarter.  They  gave  in  promptly,  and 
the  combat  was  over.  At  this  moment  Broke 
fainted  from  loss  of  blood  and  was  carried  in  a 
jolly-boat  to  his  own  ship,  which  had  dropped 
astern.  There  never  was  so  short  and  sharp  a 
fight.  The  pace  was  so  fast  and  fierce  that  the 
whole  thing  was  ended  in  twenty  minutes. 
Lawrence  having  been  twice  wounded  early  in 
the  action,  was  carried  below.  Asked  whether 
the  colours  should  be  struck,  he  grimly  answered, 
"  No  ;  they  shall  wave  while  I  live."  Then  he 
grew  delirious,  and  during  his  fever  often  ex- 
claimed, "Don't  give  up  the  ship" — words  which 
deservedly  became  classical  in  the  American  Navy. 

James  A.  Manson. 


ENVOI 

The  Sailor's  Graveyard         <^        -^:i>' 

(From  Toui^es  of  Conscience) 

T  N  the  churchyard,  growing  gradually  dim  and 
ethereal,  were  laid  many  bodies  from  which 
the  white  vampires  of  the  main  had  sucked  out 
the  souls.  Here  mouldered  fisher  lads,  who 
had  whistled  over  the  nets,  and  dreamed  rough 
dreams  of  winning  island  girls  and  breeding 
hardy  children.  Here  reposed  old  limbs  of  salty 
mariners,  who  had  for  so  long  defied  the  ocean 
that  when  they  knew  themselves  taken  at  the  last, 
they  turned  their  rugged  faces  down  to  their  enemy 
with  a  stony  and  an  ironic  wonder.  And  here, 
\oo,  among  these  cast-up  bodies  of  the  drowned, 
lay  many  women  who  had  loved  the  prey  of  the 
sea,  and  kissed  the  cheeks  turned  acrid  by  its 
winds  and  waters.  Some  of  them  had  died  from 
heart-sif.kncss,  cursing  the  sea.  .Some  had  faded, 
withering  like  the  i»alc  santl-roscs  beside  the  sea. 
Some  had  liv(rd  to  old  age  Ijy  em|)ly  licarths  in 
the  sound  of  the  sea. 

Inscriptions    faded    upnn    the    stones    lliat    lay 

2J5 


236  THE   CALL   OF   THE   SEA 

above  them.     Texts  of  comfort  in  which  the  fine, 

salt  films  crept,  faint  verses  of  sweet  hymns  defiled 

by  the  perching  sea-birds,  old  rhymes  like  homely 

ejaculations  of  very  simple  hearts,  sank  into  the 

gathering  darkness  on  every  hand.     The  graves 

seemed  murmuring  to  the  night :  "  Look  on  me, 

I  hold  a  lover "  ;  "  And  I  keep  fast  a  maiden "  ; 

"And    within    my   arms    crumbles    a   little    child 

caught    by   the    sea " ;    "  And    I    fold   a   mother, 

whose  son  is  in  the  hideous  water  foliage  of  the 

depths    of  the   sea " ;    "  And    I    embrace    an   old 

captain  whom  the  sea  loved  even  in  his  hollow 

age." 

Robert  Htchens. 


PLYMOUTH 
WILLIAM    Iii<ENDON    AND   SON,    LTD.,    hKINTEKS 


■sT 


\ 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below. 


H 


•..J  i"^  L. 


i^ 


AUG 


7-4 


5  1965 

4-9 


9-10 


^ 


^Ok. 


r'*^ 


REMINGTON    RAND   INC.    20 


>- 


^' 


,5;f     JAN2  4t^ 


213  (533) 


-EIBRARY 

ALIFbtoM! 


AA    000  574  331     5 


t 


PLEA<5F   DO    NOT    REMOVE 
THIS    BOOK  CARD 


^^^^t•LIBRARYQr 


>i 


55 


'^TOITVDJO'^ 


University  Research  Library 


;> 
■J 


